


Fallen World

by pl2363



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bonding, Cults, Death, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Loss, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Torture, Transformer Sparklings, Twincest, Voyeurism, barbarian au, forced service, nomadic AU, split sparks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 74,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7783276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pl2363/pseuds/pl2363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joining the barbarian AU fic theme, mixing with the idea of the tower of babel. This is based around a rare pair, First Aid is lost in the wildlands beyond his home and finds himself in trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wicked3659](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/gifts).



> Thanks to ntldr and ceryskitty's awesome barbarian AU fics for the inspiration!

It had been a massacre.

First Aid was sent with the expedition team as the staff medic, and expected the usual injuries that went with traveling into the untamed area beyond the Rust Sea in search of a fresh energon vein. But he never thought he'd end up fleeing their camp when several winged mechs swooped in and attacked just before dusk only two weeks into their trip

In the midst of the chaos he'd escaped and hidden himself in the back of a nearby cavern where he cowered through the night, listening to the hollers of the attackers and the cries of his comrades. He should've stayed to help fight, but who was he kidding? He hated fighting, and he was terrible at it. All he could do was hope my morning the attackers would be gone and he could tend to any survivors. That was all he was good for: fixing broken mechs.

The light of morning roused him from a fitful recharge. Sitting up, he listened for any sounds of enemies. It was eerily quiet, though.

He crawled out from his hiding place and made his way back toward camp. The trailers they'd hauled here were askew, broken metal and items were strewn across the ground, and strangely there were no bodies anywhere. First Aid saw plenty of spilled energon but no one was here now.

Finding his medical trailer, he ducked inside. All the medical grade energon he stored on the shelves had been taken. But those wildland mechs had no idea he had more locked away.

He pulled out a travel pack and then unlocked a bottom cabinet filled with more rations and a bottle of high-grade his mentor, Ratchet, gave him before he left on this trip. He softly sighed as he held the bottle in his hands. High-grade was a rarity these days, and this had been a very meaningful gift. He put it in the bottom of his pack and then piled all the rest of the energon on top. Standing up he grabbed various supplies that might be useful; a couple tubes of bonding agent, a large box of clamps in all sizes, and a stack of gauze cloths. After shoving it all into his pack, he folded the flap over top then slipped his arms into each strap and stood up with it on his back. It was heavy but necessary if he had any hope of surviving the long walk back to Kaon.

Hopping out of the trailer he took a quick pass through the camp to be sure no one else was here. “Why take them?” He wondered out loud. Dead or not, they'd all vanished, every last member of the team.

He was all alone out here.

No time to dwell on things he couldn't change, though. He needed to start the long journey back to Kaon.

…

First Aid’s feet hurt. The layer of rusted metal on the ground he walked through had permeated the seams of the plating on his pedes making them achy and less able to function. The pain was also slowing down his pace considerably.

Coming to a stop, he sighed. He needed find a place to sit down and clean the build up off his feet. But out here he'd be exposed to attack. Surveying the area a glint of something caught his attention. Using his visor to enhance his focus, he gasped. “A naturally occurring crystal forest?” He'd read in the old archives about such an occurrence, but to see in person would be incredible.

He altered direction, and slowly made his way toward the glinting in the distance.

Hours later he was finally close, his feet hurt so badly that his sensory net was misfiring, making it feel like they were burning. He limped along anyway, reaching the outer edge where huge natural crystals grew upward in amazing formations. They were as tall as some small buildings back in Kaon. Awed, he touched a nearby crystal. “Incredible.”

The deeper he walked into the forest, the more varied the colors in the crystals became. Finally a warning flashed at him about the condition of his pedes, and he came to a stop.

He removed his pack and set it on the ground. Then he lowered himself to sit. In the forest the ground was nice and solid and not covered in rust particles at all. He took out some of the gauze and began the task of cleaning the bottoms of each pede. He winced from the pain behind his mask, his sensory net misfiring with more burning signals. The pain eased as he finished getting out as much gunk as he could.

“How am I gonna walk all the way back to Kaon if this keeps happening?” First Aid sighed, looking inside his pack at the stash of energon rations. Being conservative with what he had available, he had at most three weeks of supplies.

Despair began to take hold. His alt mode was useless out here, since his wheel tread was meant for city driving, not wildland-rust-covered ground driving. Walking was causing him pain. His supplies were limited. And there were tribes of mechs out here bent on either killing or botnapping him…

He flopped on his back and groaned, lamenting his situation. If only things weren't so awful back home due to the energon shortage. Then this expedition wouldn't have been necessary. Now he was alone and vulnerable and he'd probably die out here.

“Wonder what it was like before apocalyptic cataclysm turned our planet into this?” First Aid hadn't been alive when their world descended into this chaos. He'd been created with an ancient relic called Vector Sigma to fulfill the need for certain professionals to keep the city states of Kaon and Iacon running. This was why he'd been created as a medic.

The cause of the cataclysm was still unknown, but according to what he'd been told the planet transformed itself and sent a shockwave of energy that went across the entire surface. City states like Vos were swallowed whole, others were left standing but damaged like Kaon and Iacon. The universal language they'd all once used was lost, the shockwave scrambling their processors. And most of the old tech used every day was rendered useless.

In his city state, enough survivors carried the old Cybertron’s knowledge forward to rebuild and repair to an extent. But energon shortages and lack of mechs to fulfill essential societal roles made recovery slow at best.

Staring up at the canopy of crystals in an array of colors refracting the light of the waning daylight, he set his worries aside for a moment. He might die out in this dangerous place but Primus, this it had some amazing beauty to share.

Exhaustion permeated every micrometer of his frame, and before he knew it, he slipped into a light recharge right where he was.

...

First Aid jolted awake when he heard yelling. Sitting up, optics fighting to focus, he quickly folded his pack closed and put it back on. The yelling sounded like the winged mechs that attacked his camp, but there was other yelling mixed in. It sounded less aggressive, and more assertive.

Getting to his feet, he started heading in the opposite direction from the melee, but paused when he heard the distinctive cry of pain. He wasn't good for much, but he could repair mechs. Was he crazy for considering going _toward_ the disturbance deeper in the crystal forest?

He rocked on his feet, unsure what to do, but in the end his desire to heal someone that might be hurt overrode all logic to the contrary. He mentally cursed his programming as a medic, turning around and making his way toward the yelling voices.

Through the fractured landscape of crystals he saw winged mechs fighting normal-looking mechs. Ducking down low, he watched to get a read on the situation.

A small black and white mech with a visor fought gracefully. Both sides had swords and large clubs, they swung at each other. A winged mech in all bright green was chattering away in what sounded like taunting, but First Aid knew nothing of the local languages out here. A yellow winged mech ran at the normal mech that was dark green in color. He expertly dodged the attack and landed his club squarely in the middle of the winged mech’s back, sending him to the ground with a thud. A hard hit, but nothing like the cry of someone who needed medical attention.

That's when he noticed both the green one and the black and white one were protecting a larger black one. First Aid zoomed in with his visor, seeing energon trickling from a sword wound in the black mech’s side. He was the one that needed help.

The fight continued only a few moments longer. The large one they were protecting threw his hands out and erected a large force field around the three. The winged mechs pounded on it, poked at it with their swords but eventually gave up and took off into the forest.

The black one’s force field dropped and so did he, falling hard to his knees. The other two chattered worriedly at one another, looking unsure what to do.

First Aid emerged from where he'd been crouched behind a large crystal and slowly approached.

The black and white one spun around unexpectedly, sword point micrometers from the energon line in his neck.

First Aid held up his hands in surrender. “I'm unarmed. Your friend needs help, though. I can fix him.”

The green one chattered something, and the black and white one snorted in reply. Up close, First Aid saw they were wearing armor _over_ their armor. It was sort of strange and yet interesting looking.

Looking at the black one behind them, he saw his frame shuddering. That sword wound in his side was close to his fuel pump, and if he didn't help him he would die right right before their optics.

Whether it was programming, a rare moment of bravery, or stupidity, First Aid wasn't sure, but he moved quickly to one side, and before the black and white one could adjust his stance with his sword, shoved him at his hip to put him off balance. It worked. The mech stumbled and First Aid got past him. The green one tried to grab him, but he was agile, having escaped the other attackers at his camp, too, and ducked the grasping arms.

He dropped to his knees in front of the black one and looked up at him in the visor. “I want to heal you, but I need to see your wound.” He touched the black hand wrapped over the bleeding area in his side.

The other two roared and First Aid tensed, expecting a sword in his back or club to the head. At least he'd die trying to help someone.

The black one held his gaze, then lifted his free hand, throwing up another force field, this one surrounding himself and First Aid only, keeping his comrades out.

First Aid gasped, surprised. He glanced over his shoulder at the two chattering loudly at the black mech.

The black mech said something in his language to First Aid, then lifted his hand away from the wound.

Not wasting a moment, First Aid pushed the extra armor down from the larger mech’s hip and felt the wound with his fingers. Pulses from his fingertips told him how deep the wound went, his knowledge of their physiology told him this mech’s fuel pump had been damaged by the sword and he was bleeding internally. Now, how would he explain all that to him?

“I need you to lay down.” First Aid took off his pack, unfolding the top. “Please, lay down.” He held a hand up vertically and then mimed what he wanted by turning it horizontal.

The black mech didn't understand, his visor flickering from the failing pump.

First Aid then showed him by laying down himself and then pointing at the black mech. “You, lay down like this for me.” Primus, this was frustrating.

The black mech nodded, then said something to others. First Aid sat up just as the force field came down. The other two stayed where they were, but both were ready with their weapons. The black mech laid down on his back, and First Aid set to work, trying to ignore the fact he could be killed any second by this mech’s comrades.

First Aid tried to unhook the armor skirting around the mech’s hips, but the black mech grabbed his hand and shook his head, saying something in his language.

“I need access to the wounded area.” First Aid huffed, then gently pushed the edge of the skirting down further, which wasn't met with protest, thankfully.

Transforming a fingers, he used plate removal tools in the tips to pry up the plating that had been cut into. Underneath he was greeted with a mess. The fuel pump was struggling due to a deep gash and it was seeping energon everywhere. Working quickly, First Aid transformed his fingers back and stuffed gauze into the area to sop up the processed energon. He then took out a tube of bonding agent to seal off the hole the sword made in the pump. After a moment the fuel pump’s hum returned to normal. The slight tremor the mech exhibited stopped. Relieved he'd managed to stem the damage, he snapped the removed plating back in place and applied more bonding agent to the cut hole.

“Krowka,” the black mech said, patting First Aid’s arm and smiling.

“If that means thank you, then you're welcome,” First Aid replied. He tucked his supplies back in the pack, and bagged the dirtied gauze to dispose of later.

The others came closer, lowering their weapons and chattering with the black mech.

Well, at least he'd managed to save someone. Even if he might end up dying out here himself. He slid his pack back on, and stood up.

The green mech gave the large black mech a hand, helping him to his feet. The three talked for a moment, pointing to First Aid.

Frowning behind his mask, First Aid wasn't sure he liked the implication of their gestures… “I'm gonna get going.” He took a few steps back.

The black one came forward and said something that seemed important.

First Aid shook his head. “I can't understand you.”

The other two also said something that sounded similar, but he really had no clue what they were trying to say.

The black and white one went to a nearby crystal and broke off a small piece. He crouched down next to the black one and scratched something into the ground, then pointed at First Aid.

Bending forward to look, he saw a line that ended with a funny set of triangle shapes. “Um, I still don't know what you're trying to tell me.”

The black and white mech tapped the start of his line with the crystal, then moved his finger down the line he drew toward the triangles saying the word ‘tarda’.

Trying to puzzle it out, First Aid stared at the drawing.

The black one knelt down and took the crystal from other one and then drew what looked like a bunch of crystal growths. He was a much better artist than the black and white one. The large black one gestured upward, then pointed to the drawing.

“That's where we are…” First Aid replied _finally_ understanding something.

He pointed to First Aid, then traced the line with four fingers toward the triangles.

First Aid realized the triangles were another location, and each finger represented one of them, meaning they wanted him to come on their journey.

“Oh, no.” First Aid shook his head. “I need to get back to Kaon. Report what happened to my expedition.” Crouching down, he took the crystal piece from the black one’s hand and drew a line going the opposite direction from the crystals. He added some rectangles at the end to represent Kaon. “See? This is where I'm going.” He pressed his finger to the rectangles.

All three suddenly got the same worried expression on their faces. The black and white one took the crystal back and drew an X through the rectangles, saying something as he shook his head. Pointing to the triangles he said something else, which despite the language barrier clearly meant it was safer to come with them.

First Aid weighed his options. Walk back to Kaon, but die of starvation or murder before he got there, or go with these three skilled fighters to an unknown place. Was it botnapping if he went willingly?

“Okay.” First Aid sighed as he touched the triangles. “I'll go with you, I guess.”

The black mech grinned and said something. The other two both glanced at him which made him duck his head slightly.

This language barrier was going to be a problem… First Aid hoped they could figure out a better way to communicate. But for now this was the safest choice.

…

They continued to walk through the forest which was much larger than First Aid initially suspected. It filled in a ravine between two large slopes, which they were traveling the length of.

The black and white one turned to walk backwards, so he could face First Aid and ask something.

“You should look out,” First Aid said, pointing to a crystal he was about to walk into.

He laughed then moved away from it, falling into step beside First Aid. He repeated the question then touched his chest saying, “Jazz.” Then he touched First Aid’s chest.

“Oh that's your name, Jazz?” First Aid asked.

He nodded excitedly and then tapped First Aid’s chest again.

“Oh, right, you want to know my name,” First Aid replied. He touched his chest. “First Aid.”

“First Aid,” Jazz repeated with a bright smile.

He then jogged up to the green one leading their little party and tapped the back of his friend’s helm. “Hound.”

“He's named Hound,” First Aid confirmed.

Hound glanced over his shoulder and nodded.

Jazz then fell back to walk with the large black mech First Aid had repaired, and playfully pounded the middle of his chest with a flat hand. “Trailbreaker.”

First Aid bowed his head in respect as he met the large mech’s visored gaze. “Nice to meet you, Trailbreaker.”

“Portera, First Aid,” Trailbreaker replied.

First Aid smiled behind his mask. He was honestly surprised how friendly they were. But he was also well aware he'd earned their respect by saving one of them. Still, it was nothing like the stories he'd been told.

The crystals began to thin out and more rust coated ground was ahead of them. First Aid slowed to a stop. His pedes wouldn't make it far on ground like that.

Jazz chattered at First Aid and lifted up his own leg, turning his foot up to show a thick rubber layer covering the bottom. Then he pointed to First Aid’s feet.

Shaking his head, First Aid sighed.

Hound wandered over and grabbed First Aid’s leg by the knee, lifting it up and nearly toppling him over in the process to feel the underside. He grasped at the green mech to keep his balance, until he set his leg back down. The group then talked and eventually both Jazz and Hound were looking at Trailbreaker.

With a look of resignation Trailbreaker nodded.

Hound pointed to Trailbreaker as he said something to First Aid.

This was ridiculous, not being able to understand each other. Shaking his head, First Aid vented a frustrated sigh. “I don't understand.”

Trailbreaker walked over and squatted down with his back to First Aid. Hound gestured to First Aid, then patted Trailbreaker’s back.

“Wait, you want him to carry me? He's in no condition to be carting me around. His autorepair is straining his systems.” First Aid really wished he had a set of those rubber soles they were wearing. Wait- maybe he could do something similar to his own pedes.

Taking off his pack, First Aid sat down and rifled around and took out a fresh tube of bonding agent. On a flexible area like his feet, it would only hold for so long, but it should keep that nasty rust dust out of the seams. The others gathered around him, watching curiously. He first filled the seams, then squished a bunch out to coat the bottom of his foot.

Hound reached into the pack without asking and Jazz scolded him. Ignoring Jazz, Hound took out a piece of the gauze and pressed it into the bonding agent as it set.

“That's a great idea,” First Aid said, impressed with the addition to his makeshift pede protection.

Hound smiled at him, and they worked together to do the same thing to his other pede.

Finished, he stood up and tested the strength of the bonding agent by bending his feet various ways. It would probably need to be redone the next day, but for now it did the trick.

Jazz and Hound both nodded approvingly. Beyond them First Aid noticed Trailbreaker was now sitting down and his visor was dimmed. First Aid walked over to him, knelt down and pressed a hand over his healing wound. It was hot to the touch.

“You need energon,” First Aid commented.

“Energon?” Trailbreaker repeated.

Was that a common word for their languages? “Yeah, you need some energon. One sec.” He grabbed his pack, taking out one of the medical grade rations. He offered it to Trailbreaker, but he looked confused. First Aid pointed to it. “Energon.”

Trailbreaker exchanged confused looks with Jazz and Hound.

Jazz asked First Aid something, then lifted up part of his additional hip armor taking out energon in a solid form from a hidden pocket beneath. He held it up. “Energon.”

Right, they didn't process energon out here. They probably used it raw. Which was fine, but the energon in First Aid’s hand was filled with supplements that would help Trailbreaker heal faster. How to explain that, though?

He touched the wounded area, then touched the ration. “You need _this_ energon.”

Trailbreaker looked unsure, but took the offered pouch. He squeezed it, and put the smooth side to his lips, trying to figure out how to get to the liquid inside.

First Aid chuckled a little. “You consume it like this.”

Still in Trailbreaker’s hand, he ripped the top corner off by the tab, then retracted his mask. He pressed his lips to the corner to show him. Instantly understanding, Trailbreaker mimicked him, sucking the open corner. With a mouthful, he paused to taste it. Swallowing, he rumbled his approval and finished off the ration in no time.

First Aid closed his mask up, surprised how clean the air out here was compared to the city.

Hound muttered something, and Jazz seemed to agree. First Aid knew it must look odd to non-city mechs, but processed energon was much easier for their systems to make use of. Raw energon took a lot longer to break down, and right now Trailbreaker needed the boost this would provide.

“Krowka,” Trailbreaker said, gazing at First Aid as he handed the empty pouch to him.

Fairly sure that meant ‘thank you’ now, First Aid nodded. “You're very welcome.”

...

Soon they were on the move again, making their way through an area of the Rust sea. The rust layer was so thick, it was all over each of their legs. First Aid wondered why they were going this way, and if he made the right choice going along with them.

Another large slope loomed ahead of them, and Jazz started to walk faster, taking the lead. His quicker pace forced the rest of them to keep up.

First Aid ended up walking next to Trailbreaker, partly because he felt this one trusted him the most but also to keep an optic on his condition.

Jazz called out excitedly, then ran ahead as they reached the edge of another high slope.

Hound laughed but refused to walk any faster. Trailbreaker shook his head and said something to Hound that made him laugh even harder. First Aid wondered what the joke was.

They followed the bottom of the slope around and up a little ways. Jazz whooped loudly up ahead as he stopped at the top of a small hill area.

Reaching the high point of this trail, First Aid looked down the other side of the hill in awe. Triangles. Or rather, small hills filled an open valley below them. He saw remnants of a city that must have been here before the landscape shifted. Roadways that ran in jagged lines instead of straight. Large sections of ruins half-buried.

Trailbreaker pat First Aid’s shoulder and said something but it was all gibberish to him. He couldn't understand the excitement the three had. There was nothing down there that looked like civilization.

Jazz pointed to the sun now waning in the sky. The three chatted for a moment, then Hound took lead again. They walked the well-worn trail down partway but Hound had them turn off. There were smaller wild crystals growing along the slope of the mountain, making it look glittery from the sunlight reflecting off them.

Hound said something to the group and pointed to a nearby cavern. They climbed their way over, the mountain slope steeper in this area. First Aid almost lost his footing, but Trailbreaker grabbed his arm, helping him back up. It didn't seem like the most convenient place to get to but maybe that was for a reason? With flying wildland mechs around, less obvious places to set up camp made sense.

Inside the cavern it was quickly getting dark. First Aid stood awkwardly to the side as the three began to set up for the night. Hound unhooked a piece of his extra armor that was up higher on his waist and with a few manipulations he created a large metal bowl shape he set on the ground. Trailbreaker lifted part of his extra armor up and unhooked a small, clear glass dome from the waist band part, placing it in the bowl. Jazz reached into his hidden pocket and took out a piece of crystal, putting it under the dome. Suddenly the crystal glowed brightly, lighting up the cavern nicely.

“How— _what_ is that?” First Aid had never seen anything like it. He knelt down next to it, trying to understand the mechanics. He had no idea crystals could glow like that.

Hound smiled, lifting the dome up. The crystal’s glow quickly faded. He touched the bottom edge of the dome and then the shiny metal of the bowl, explaining in his language. Setting the dome part down again, the crystal once again lit up.

First Aid wasn't a scientist, so it didn't make sense to him, but he was definitely intrigued. The only way to create artificial light in Kaon was to burn energon, which polluted the air. That was why he was built with a mask, to filter the particles out so they wouldn't coat his intakes.

The three settled in and they each took out a hunk of raw energon. First Aid removed his pack, and sat down with them. Trailbreaker broke off some of his raw energon, holding it out to First Aid.

“Tell you what, let’s trade.” First Aid pulled another medical grade ration from his pack. He took the offered piece, then handed him the ration in return. “You're still healing. Have this instead.”

Trailbreaker looked unsure. He glanced at the pack, seemingly aware of the limited amount on hand.

Jazz swallowed the bite of his energon and said something to Trailbreaker. Whatever he said assured Trailbreaker. He stowed the larger hunk back in his pocket and opened the ration, saying ‘krowka’ to First Aid before happily drinking the fuel.

First Aid opened his mask and nibbled an edge of the piece he'd been given and tiredly sighed. He'd been walking for two days straight, and it was wearing on him. He wasn't a robust mech built for this kind of activity. The fact he wasn't dead yet also amazed him. But what would become of him? Join these mechs he couldn't understand? Never see his mentor again? He frowned a little, suddenly feeling homesick. He missed chatting with Ratchet more than anything.

Jazz leaned back on his hands and began to hum a song. It was a nice distraction. Hound swayed where he sat and the atmosphere turned warm and friendly. Despite not being one of them, First Aid felt welcomed and cared for.

Trailbreaker scooted closer to First Aid, putting an arm loosely around him, which was unexpected but also comforting. Jazz paused his song and said something to Trailbreaker. The large mech tried to protest, but Jazz cut him off saying the same thing but more sternly.

Trailbreaker removed his arm and sadly smiled at First Aid. “Driad.”

“I don't mind.” First Aid looked at Jazz, confused. “Why was that not okay?”

Jazz frowned, clearly not understanding. After a moment he resumed singing, though. Hound tried to join in, but he wasn't nearly as melodic sounding and Jazz teased him. Trailbreaker in contrast remained quiet, staring at the glowing crystal.

First Aid didn't understand what just happened, but it did worry him. What exactly was wrong with trying to comfort him? Was it because he was an outsider? He needed to remain vigilant and not let their general welcoming behavior override being cautious around them.


	2. Confined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Aid is in awe and more trouble than he imagined possible.

Lying on the cavern floor hadn't been exactly comfortable, but exhaustion overcame First Aid’s discomfort. He woke to the sounds of talking, and dimly lit his optics. For a few seconds he was confused about where he was, then he remembered his ordeal and the mechs that he chose to travel with.

Jazz was at the cavern entrance peering out, while talking with Hound. Trailbreaker sat quietly manipulating something very small in his hands.

First Aid sat up, and each of them glanced at him.

Trailbreaker stowed his small item and Hound got to his feet. Had they been waiting for First Aid to wake? He suddenly felt bad he was so weak compared to them, needing extra rest.

Clapping his hands together, Jazz grinned and spoke. Trailbreaker got up, and offered a hand to First Aid. He took it, and got to his feet, which instantly ached when he put his full weight on them. His makeshift sole-protectors were still intact enough for another day of walking, though. Picking up his pack, he slid his arms through the straps and heaved it up on his back.

Without thinking, First Aid then pressed his hand to the wounded area of Trailbreaker’s side. The large mech tensed and said something with a sheepish smile. “Just checking my patient,” he replied, knowing none of them had a clue what he said. The area was warm from his autorepair but much cooler than yesterday. “Seems you'll be fine.”

It was then he noticed Hound and Jazz giving him a funny look.

Trailbreaker broke the awkward silence pointing to cavern entrance and saying something. Hound and Jazz agreed and ducked out of cavern, Trailbreaker and First Aid following them out.

The walk was quieter today, though Jazz kept bouncing on his feet and jogging ahead now and again. Wherever they were headed, he was obviously excited.

They returned the trail and started the descent into the hilly valley below. First Aid still didn't understand where they were going. It looked desolate and destroyed.

Hours later they reached the bottom of the slope and started across the valley. The air here was hot and still. They were nowhere he knew of on any map.

There were also ruins _everywhere_. Walls of old buildings, pieces of furniture jutting up out of the ground, trinkets gleaming under the midday light. First Aid paused at a glassy item and squatted down to look at it. Rubbing some dust from the surface he saw it was ornate drinking glass missing a large chunk in the side. Their world must have been beautiful before it was destroyed by the cataclysm.

Trailbreaker called to First Aid, gesturing to keep moving. He stood back up and jogged to close the gap. They didn't seem interested in the relics of the past strewn about.

In the distance a section of ruins that looked like the base of an old building came into view. Jazz laughed and ran ahead toward it.

They'd traveled for almost two days and this was their destination? A bunch of old ruins? First Aid frowned behind his mask. Hound and Trailbreaker soon picked up their pace as they got closer, forcing First Aid to semi-jog just to keep up with their longer strides.

Jazz jumped up and down, waving at them to hurry up. Reaching the ruin of the old building, First Aid glanced around. It didn't look like anything special. Why did they all seem so happy to be here?

Hound and Jazz pressed a hand to side by side electronic entry pads on the one half wall still standing. The kind used in secure areas of buildings, like in medical center back in Kaon. Suddenly, the floor they were standing on began to lower into the ground.

First Aid squeaked with surprise, and grabbed hold of Trailbreaker’s arm to steady himself as they lowered down. They all chuckled and Hound gave a friendly pat to his shoulder. The platform only lowered a few meters, and they all hopped off. Jazz flipped a switch and the platform rose up again, sealing them under ground.

“What is going on?” First Aid asked, peering into the dark corridor that Jazz led the way down.

Both Hound and Trailbreaker spoke, as if trying to explain but it was useless. First Aid worried he'd made a poor choice in coming with these mechs.

The darkness lifted at the end of the corridor and they stood on a balcony-like area overseeing a large open space far below. The walls were cross-crossed with winding walkways, each dotted with doorways. Everything was lit with the same warm light they'd used in the cavern with the crystals.

“An underground city?” First Aid murmured in awe. Down here they were safe and they used artificial light that didn't cause pollution. “No one back in Kaon would believe this.”

Jazz bounced on his feet, happily humming as he led the group down the walkway to the bottom.

First Aid drank it all in. Ornate woven fabrics were hung to cover doorways they passed. Some mechs peered out from behind the beautiful thick cloths and greeted the group with friendly smiles. Nearing the bottom, a sparkling went running past and First Aid froze, staring after him in awe.

“Sparklings? There are _sparklings_ here?” First Aid had never seen one outside his datapad before. Ratchet explained them, how they were made, but in Kaon spark merging for procreation was strictly prohibited. Only Vector Sigma created mechs and only at the government’s behest.

Trailbreaker gently tapped First Aid’s arm, encouraging him to keep up. At the bottom were more sparklings playing in a group. He couldn't help but stare as they walked past to a large fabric tent set in the center.

Jazz lifted the flap and they all filed inside.

There was a large, golden era-style table in the middle and a mech seated at it. Wait. Not just another mech, a _Praxian_. But Ratchet said no one from Praxis existed anymore... The mech was black and white and had an air of authority about him. Jazz greeted him with a huge smile, and his stoic expression softened as he smiled and nodded hello back.

The Praxian’s gaze lingered on Jazz a moment then he straightened his posture and stood to greet the others, pausing to look First Aid up and down. He said something to the three and they each removed pouches hidden under their extra armor. Trailbreaker and Hound opened their pouches first, pouring out handfuls of crystals. Prowl looked pleased, then raised an optic ridge at Jazz. With a huge grin, Jazz poured out a similar pile, but picked up one that was slightly larger than the others, blueish-green in color, and with both hands held it up for Prowl saying something that made the Praxian’s sensor panels lift and optics brighten before he ducked his head slightly and took the offered crystal.

After examining the crystal for a moment, he tucked it into a pocket of external chest armor draped down his front. He quickly shifted back into business mode, turning his full attention to First Aid, asking a series of questions that Jazz dutifully answered. At one point Trailbreaker lowered part of his skirting and showed the bonded area from the repair. The Praxian circled the table, placed a hand on First Aid’s shoulder and spoke.

First Aid desperately wished he could understand but it was all just garbled speak. His processor couldn't make any sense of of it.

Hound said something, then touched the Praxian’s chest saying “Prowl” as he looked at First Aid. Then he touched First Aid’s chest saying his name to Prowl.

Prowl nodded in understanding and First Aid did, too. This _Prowl_ mech seemed to be in charge. First Aid wondered what he wanted to do with him.

Stepping back Prowl said something declarative.

Jazz responded, and Trailbreaker looked disappointed. Hound lightly pat his the larger mech’s arm to comfort him.

“What's happening?” First Aid asked, despite knowing how useless his question was.

Prowl looked at Jazz, sensor panels twitching upward once. Jazz’s bright smile was gone, and he stepped forward, gently taking hold of First Aid’s forearm and speaking in a gentle tone.

His spark began to pulse faster with fear. He'd trusted these mechs but now he wasn't so sure he should have.

First Aid let Jazz lead him out of the tent with Prowl just behind them. He glanced over his shoulder past the Praxian to Trailbreaker and Hound who came out of the tent but didn't follow.

“Where are you taking me?” First Aid asked Jazz.

Jazz didn't bother to try reply, and sadly smiled. They took him away from the center of camp and down another corridor lit using more crystal lighting. At the end Prowl entered a passcode in a lock and a large door hissed open. They walked inside and First Aid’s mouth fell open at the sight that greeted them.

This room had clearly once been part of a medical facility. Crystal power was being harnessed by a strange apparatus that powered one medberth with a large soldier lying motionless on it. Wires were clamped to various areas inside his open chest, but that's not what shocked First Aid.

“The matrix?” First Aid stepped forward in complete awe. He recognized it as a lost relic the Kaon and Iacon governments were looking for. They each offered rewards to whomever led them to it. And here it was lying inside this mech’s open chest.

Prowl said something and Jazz let go of his hold on First Aid.

Free to move, he went to the side of the comatose mech and quickly assessed his condition. He'd been almost fatally wounded in his lower side, but the life support system of this berth was keeping him alive in stasis. Fingering the wound, First Aid saw the area had partly healed then stopped. There were a few possible causes for lack of regeneration and healing but without proper medical equipment he couldn't diagnose it.

“I can't fix him,” First Aid said, looking at Prowl and Jazz who were staring intently at him. “I need equipment.” He shook his head as he pointed to the wound.

Prowl frowned. Jazz murmured something to him. Prowl’s reply was curt, and he spun on his heel and walked out with Jazz chattering at him. First Aid started to follow them, but Prowl put up his hand in a gesture to stop. Confused, First Aid stopped mid-step.

Then the door slid closed.

“What? Wait! You can't lock me in here!” First Aid ran forward and pounded his fists on the door. He tried the keypad lock from inside. It beeped and turned red no matter what combo of buttons he tried. “No, no, no! Let me out!”

Ratchet would be so disappointed in him for getting botnapped. He let his forehelm thud against the door as tears clouded his optics beneath his visor. Part of him regretting turning around to help Trailbreaker. The other part couldn't imagine letting him die. The look in his optics through that visor up close… He huffed in frustration. Ratchet also warned him not to let emotions guide him out here. That's exactly why he was here, having formed an attachment to the mech he'd saved. “I'm an idiot.”

Pushing away from the door, he looked at the unconscious warrior. “You must be really important to them. Why not just take that relic? Use it?” He frowned then wandered over to an open berth. He took off his pack, and set it down. Then he crawled onto the berth and curled up. He missed his home. He missed Ratchet. He even missed the burnt smell of energon that hung in the air in Kaon. Tired and upset with himself, he let his optics flicker off. Maybe once he rested properly he'd have a better idea of what to do to get out of this.


	3. Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now to switch POV to the other side, what is First Aid to these mechs?

It made no sense to Trailbreaker. Healers were sacred beings or so he'd been taught. This one had the power of a healer, but seemed so much like one of them. Granted, the last time he met a healer he'd been a youngling.

“Here, have some freshly harvested energon,” Hound said, offering a piece to Trailbreaker.

Not wanting to offend his friend’s offer, Trailbreaker took it, graciously bowing his head in respect. “Thank you.”

“You know healers are sacred. You knew this would happen when we brought him here,” Hound said, worried frown on his lips.

“He's not like the healer we knew when we were young. Did you see how surprised he was by the sparklings? It was like he'd never seen one before,” Trailbreaker said, shaking his head and staring and the bright pink energon piece in his hand.

“That was strange. I mean, he was a sparkling once, I don't know why he seemed so surprised by them,” Hound replied.

“And why was he wandering out there without rubber coverings for his pedes? Why was he out there all alone for that matter?” Trailbreaker nibbled the edge of the fresh energon humming his enjoyment. “He seemed so…”

“Clueless?” Hound said, finishing his sentence.

“Innocent.” Trailbreaker then sighed.

The drape covering for Hound’s quarters lifted. “Hound, could you look at my map I made from your latest tracking notes? Make sure it's correct?” Grapple asked.

“Sure. Come in,” Hound replied, gesturing for him to join them.

Trailbreaker decided now would be the best time to excuse himself. “Thank you for your hospitality.” He finished the fresh energon and bowed his head to Hound.

“Anytime. You know that,” Hound replied.

Trailbreaker got to his feet and, nodding his goodbyes to both, stepped out. He wandered up the way to his own quarters, only three units away.

Stepping inside, he turned on his lamp hung from the ceiling by closing the glass bottom, and sat down on the pile of blankets and pillows that was his berth. Reaching into one of his armor pockets, he took out a small wire sculpture he'd worked on during their mission of a turbo fox. Normally he'd put it with the other sculptures he liked to make on his shelves and then maybe start another one, but tonight he sat quietly trying to puzzle out the strange healer while fingering his small piece of artwork.

The healer he'd known as a sparkling was elderly, wise, kind. Alpha Trion passed on knowledge like sparkling frame building, how to extract new light sparks when they were ready, what to do when a spark goes into failure to bring comfort to the dying. He'd passed away when Trailbreaker was a youngling. Ever since they'd searched for another healer.

Finding one in the crystal forest seemed like a miracle from Primus himself. A sacred gift. But he'd never seen sadness in Alpha Trion, or awe like that of a sparkling. This First Aid healer was _so_ different. Looking into his determined yet frightened optics behind his visor in the forest as Jazz and Hound got ready to knock him into the next millennia, Trailbreaker felt an instant connection to him. He trusted him. Fingering the repair, he knew he'd be dead if not for First Aid.

He tucked the small sculpture back in his pocket and got up to turn off the crystal before curling up in his berth. Perhaps in morning things would be different.

…

“He didn't do anything.” Prowl frowned as he laced his fingers and rested them on the table. Jazz, Hound and Trailbreaker sat opposite of him. “Is he _not_ a healer? I thought you said he was.”

“He _is_ ,” Trailbreaker replied. “I'd be dead if he hadn't laid his hands on me.”

“We saw him. He had the special fingertips and everything,” Hound added.

“He looked over Prime’s frame then shook his head indicating ‘no’,” Prowl replied. “If he is a true healer then he'd lay his hands on Optimus and bring him back to us.”

“He didn't just shake his head, he said something, too. Thing is, Prowl, we got no idea what the frag he's saying and vice versa. Maybe he could heal our Prime, but he needs something more than what’s in that healer cavern,” Jazz said, trying to both placate his intended to be bonded and defend his team’s actions.

Prowl frowned, then lowered his gaze to his hands on the table. “Perhaps.” He looked to Jazz after a moment. “How do you propose we translate his language?”

“There are linguists. Those whose processors can hear all languages. Megatron has one. We just need to find one,” Hound suggested.

Trailbreaker frowned at that idea. It took them eons and dumb luck to locate another healer. Now they want a linguist?

“I have an idea!” Jazz sat forward. “Ironhide’s team is going out next, right? Remember that old beacon we found in one of the old caverns here? It transmits in the same weird language the healer speaks. We have ‘Hide place it somewhere in the fallen area over us, and snag us a linguist.”

“Or we just attract more mechs we can't speak with,” Hound replied.

“But one might be a linguist?” Jazz replied.

“We should take Megatron’s,” Ironhide said, throwing the flap aside and walking in uninvited.

“That's suicide,” Hound replied.

“We combine two or three teams and go in, take their linguist,” Ironhide said confidently.

“This was a private meeting,” Prowl pointed out with a frown. “And that sort of head on, blunt tactic is why our Prime got injured in the first place.”

“Then we sneak into their camp?” Jazz asked with a devious smile.

Trailbreaker didn't like either plan honestly, but sneaking in would be put less of them at risk. “Who would go?”

“Jazz, Hound and myself,” Prowl replied.

“You can't go Prowl. You're in charge. We can't risk you on a mission,” Ironhide replied. “Jazz, Hound, and myself.”

After a moment, Prowl sighed and nodded. “You three can scope out the situation. If it seems possible, then take their linguist. If not, return immediately.”

Everyone rumbled agreement and then dispersed to prep for their new mission above ground.

...

While the rest were occupied with mission prep, Trailbreaker slipped away unnoticed down the corridor that led to the healer’s cavern. At the door, he keyed in the unlock sequence, having seen Prowl enter it several times before. The door hissed and slid open. He stepped inside quickly, and tapped the controls to close it again.

Turning around he was met with First Aid staring up at him from where he was hunched over their Prime’s body.

Glancing at his Prime for a moment, Trailbreaker bowed his head in reverence before focusing on the healer still staring at him. “I know I'm not supposed to be here, and you have no idea what I'm saying, but I-” Trailbreaker paused, sadly frowning as he realized what First Aid was doing; cleaning the built up gunk from between plate seams in their leader. “I wanted to see you. Make sure you were alright.” He wandered closer, and First Aid sat back on his stool, looking unsure.

Trailbreaker saw his fingertips transformed into thin flat shapes on one hand and a gauzy cloth in the other to wipe them clean.

First Aid transformed his fingertips back when he saw Trailbreaker looking at them and said something before folding his arms against his chest to hide his hands completely.

“I'm sorry,” Trailbreaker said in earnest.

First Aid seemed to understand his apology, and unfolded one arm, reaching over to touch his healing wound. He pushed down his hip armor to inspect, which in turn made Trailbreaker’s faceplates heat. The hip armor wasn't only functional, it was for modesty.

“You must come from a different world to wander around naked,” Trailbreaker commented, gaze inappropriately lowering to First Aid’s exposed interface area. In his peripheral the looming presence of their Prime reminded him of the sacred place this was, filling him with intense guilt for his less than holy thoughts.

Taking First Aid’s hand in his, he gently tugged on him to move away from their Prime. Understanding and trusting Trailbreaker, First Aid let himself be guided toward an adjacent berth.

“Um, I have something I wanted to give you.” Trailbreaker pulled his small wire sculpture of the turbo fox from his armor pocket and pressed it into First Aid’s hand. “I want you to have it.”

Lifting it up to his visor First Aid inspected the small trinket of art and murmured his appreciation. Or so Trailbreaker assumed.

“You're nothing like the last healer,” Trailbreaker said with a small sigh. “He was wise and elderly. You’re so… sparkling-like.” He bit his lower lip as a war raged inside him. Everything he’d been taught and raised to believe was being tipped sideways by this strange little healer they’d happened across. “I don’t mean that in an offensive way, though, you have no clue what I’m saying.”

The door to the room opened and Prowl took one step in and stopped short with a small box in his hands. “Trailbreaker! You aren’t supposed to be in here. And you have no standing to be allowed to speak with the sacred healer alone.”

“I wanted to show my respect. He saved my life,” Trailbreaker replied. It was partly true. He wanted to give First Aid a gift to show his gratitude, but he also wanted a moment to interact with him. Examine him without interruption.

Prowl’s sensor panels lowered. “I see. If you would like to speak with him again, please bring along a second mech as witness.”

“Next time, I will,” Trailbreaker replied.

First Aid was side-eyeing the open door. Trailbreaker gently touched his arm, then deeply bowed before him, distracting him from the door so Prowl wouldn’t notice.

“Thank you again,” Trailbreaker said, standing up.

“Krao-ka,” First Aid replied, his pronunciation slightly off. Primus help him, Trailbreaker found it cute.

“When did he learn that phrase?” Prowl asked with brightened optics.

“He’s smart. He picked it up from listening to us,” Trailbreaker replied.

“Intriguing.” Prowl gestured to the door. “Let’s leave him in peace to tend to Prime.”

Trailbreaker sadly frowned, then headed to the door. Prowl set the box down at the foot of a nearby berth. “Energon,” he said pointing.

First Aid nodded, understanding the one shared word between their languages.

Trailbreaker gazed at the small healer, all alone inside the room with their Prime in stasis. His spark ached with guilt, knowing this mech had no idea he’d be locked away like this and that he was partly responsible. Prowl stepped back out and closed the door with the controls.

“I’m sure you have duties that require attending,” Prowl said, shooing Trailbreaker away from the healer cavern.

“I do,” Trailbreaker replied, sullenly frowning as he walked away.

…

Trailbreaker stepped into his workshop, closing the domes on his crystal lights to make it bright enough to see what projects he had.

He was one of the group’s artisans, specialized in making external armor. There were a handful of items on his workbench to repair and an order for a new hip armor set. He wasn't in the mood to do any of what was laid out, though.

Scooping up the broken armor he set it aside on another smaller table.

That small sculptural trinket was hardly enough thanks for saving his life. He wanted to make First Aid something worthy of his sacred status. Sorting through his selection of metal sheets he found a lovely white that would match the healer’s plating and then set to work on making him a set of hip armor.

Pieces were cut, one large center panel and several smaller slats for the sides and back to aid movement. Taking the center panel to the etching area of his workshop he sat down and took out his masking fluid and brush. He carefully drew an intricate design that covered the entire front panel with the brush, losing himself in the details of it. A drawing of hands in the middle surrounded by swirling shapes to represent healing power First Aid possessed with smaller details along the edges like that tube of magical fluid that closed the hole in his side.

So engrossed in his work he jumped when a small voice called his name.

“Trailbreaker?” Windcharger stood in the doorway holding some more scrap metal he'd found on salvage. “Didn't mean to startle you.”

Trailbreaker chuckled and rubbed the back of helm. “I was in my own little world.”

Grinning, Windcharger took the fresh scrap metal to his bin and slid it all in. “Must be making something special if you're prepping to etch.”

“Yeah, it's for the healer,” Trailbreaker said, gazing at the design.

Windcharger wandered over to look. “Whoa. That's amazing! But I heard the healer isn't a real one. He laid hands on Prime and wasn't able to wake him.”

“He's a _real_ healer. He saved my life,” Trailbreaker replied. “Maybe he doesn't know how to bring back Prime. Or maybe he needs something not available in the healing cavern.”

“Maybe.” Windcharger pat Trailbreaker’s arm. “I'm glad he saved you. This place wouldn't be the same without you here with us.”

Smiling a little, Trailbreaker ducked his head. “That's kind of you to say.”

“Well, I should go help them prep the loom. I'll see you later,” Windcharger said, heading to the doorway.

“Thank you for the fresh scrap metal,” Trailbreaker replied.

“Anytime!” Windcharger then disappeared, pushing the flap aside and stepping out.

Trailbreaker turned back to his project. “I hope you aren't too lonely down there, First Aid,” he murmured as he resumed painting on the masking fluid.

 


	4. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Aid's world has shrunk down to one room, and no hope of escape. Or has it?

First Aid wandered around the decrepit former medbay. Partly looking for a way out it mostly out of boredom.

It looked like whatever this building once was had fallen underground. Crushed parts of another building blocked off what would have been more medbay facilities. The equipment here was ancient, and hardly any of it worked. He was impressed the crystal powered apparatus was able to power the medberth the large warrior was in. Unfortunately the medberth’s monitor was broken, so he couldn't access the readings it was taking on the mech’s condition.

He sighed, then picked up his pack, dumping out the contents on an empty berth. The bottle of high grade Ratchet gave him nearly rolled off the edge, but he caught it. “I messed up, Ratchet. I just want to go home, but I'll probably die out here all alone,” he said staring at the bottle.

Yelling from the other side of the door drew his attention. What was going on? Suddenly the door slid open and a large red warrior ran inside with Jazz limp in his arms. Prowl was just behind and they both yelled at First Aid.

He pointed to an open berth. “Lay him down.” Despite not speaking the same language the red mech understood and deposited Jazz on the medberth.

Hound appeared and all three were chattering, clearly upset.

First Aid winced behind his mask, needing to focus. “Shut up! All of you shut up!” He yelled loud enough that all three stared at him, surprised by his volume. He held up his hand and folded it shut to mimic their mouths. “Not a word.”

He then resumed examining Jazz. A puncture wound just under his bumper was seeping fluid. The fact he was offline meant a bad internal trauma. He used the pulses in his fingertips, determining the wound was very close to his spark chamber. Frag.

Quickly transforming his fingers, the pulled off sections of plating, dropping them to the floor. He could repair them after. He needed to stabilize his internal systems first. Inside the exposed chest he found several lines cut through. He ran over to the berth he'd poured his pack contents out on, grabbing gauze and clamps. Running back to Jazz, he worked quickly, clamping down all the severed lines.

No longer bleeding internally, First Aid sopped up the spilt fluid and energon and carefully examined his spark chamber. It had been nicked on an outer part but was otherwise intact. He sighed with relief then checked the electrical hub next to it. Several circuits had been sliced through, but he could salvage it. He set to work, pulling bad circuitry and rearranging to restore full function. After that, he used the solder function in his index finger to reconnect fluid lines he'd clamped off. Some weren't in good enough condition to fix, but he saved about half. In time Jazz’s autorepair would add new lines, though. Their bodies were surprisingly resilient that way.

Finished, he cleaned up what he could, then popped the plating back in place. He turned to go get his bonding agent only to have Hound at his side holding the tube out to him with both hands.

“Krowka,” First Aid said. He took it and sealed the hole just under Jazz’s bumper.

Prowl stepped forward speaking to First Aid, and taking hold of Jazz’s hand.

“I wish I could understand you,” First Aid replied.

Jazz dimly lit his optics behind his visor, groaning. Unfortunately there wasn't much First Aid could do for his pain. Oh wait, maybe he could. He’d grabbed some painkillers and a syringe from the medical trailer. He returned to the berth covered in supplies, and poked at the pile of contents. Under a medical ration, he found one three dose syringe, and one set of refills. It wasn’t much, but it would help.

He approached Jazz cautiously, holding up the medical injection syringe aware they might not know what it was, and that they might be upset seeing him use it. “This will help,” First Aid said, fully aware it was stupid to bother trying to explain but he couldn’t help it. Pressing the injection end against the parted seam of plating at Jazz’s elbow joint, he squeezed the handle and it sent a dose directly into a fluid line just behind the joint paneling.

Jazz mumbled something, his pained look turning into a goofy smile before his visor flickered off and he slipped into a recharge. Confused, First Aid examined the syringe’s loaded doses and saw it was a pain reliever _and_ sedative. Whoops.

Prowl suddenly started talking quickly, holding Jazz’s hand with one of his and gently shaking him with the other.

“No, no! He’s fine. Don’t jostle him!” First Aid grabbed Prowl’s hand and batted it away.

The Praxian then focused his full attention on First Aid and spoke in slow deliberate words that were nothing more than gibberish to him. The intent was clear, though. He wanted to know what he’d done to Jazz.

Annoyed at the language barrier and Prowl’s distrust even after watching him save Jazz from certain death, First Aid lost it. “You know what, you ungrateful aft? Frag you! I just saved his life! Don’t you dare talk to me like that!”

Hound immediately bowed his head in respect to First Aid, murmuring something. After a beat, Ironhide did, too. Lowering his head and saying the same thing as Hound. Prowl clenched his jaw, looking incredibly angry, but after Ironhide said something more to him, he also bowed his head and repeated the same phrase.

First Aid huffed in frustration.

Ironhide gently touched Prowl’s elbow, prompting him. Prowl then looked sadly at Jazz, lifting the hand up to his lips and kissing the backs of his fingers while he softly spoke to him. With resignation in his face, he laid the hand back down on the berth, and gently pet Jazz’s helm for a moment. Then he turned on his heel and the three filed back out, locking the door behind them.

Sagging, First Aid fought the urge to cry. How long would be trapped down here? Captured like some mechanical animal to perform at their whim? He gazed at Jazz for a moment. “You’ll wake up in the morning and probably feel fine. Sore, but able to leave. Unlike me.”

He shuffled over to the berth of supplies and quietly began arranging them. He picked up the regular pain reliever dose set, and decided to change out the cartridge in the syringe for next time. Fumbling with the used dosage vial it popped out and rolled toward the corner wall. He set down the syringe and want to pick it up only to watch it roll under an open space at the bottom of what he thought had been solid wall.

“What the--?” First Aid then took a moment to carefully examine the wall, only then seeing it was possibly a door not a wall. He fingered the surface, looking for a way to open it. Using the pulses in his fingertips, he located an area that echoed back at him. Pushing, a handle shaped depression appeared and he grasped it, sliding the door open.

Optics bright and wide behind his visor, he stared in awe at the room on the other side. Writing covered the walls, diagrams and a crude map. A large chest of drawers lined the wall at waist height on one side and a modest but comfortable looking berth was pushed up against the other. It even had a thick padded cover.

He wandered inside and immediately opened a drawer.

The top drawer of the chest was filled with various medical supplies. Drugs, a very old looking syringe injector, a set of larger plate removal tools than the ones his fingers could transform into, an old scanner that had a cracked screen, and various thin strips of metal and wire.

He shut that drawer and opened the next one. Mouth hanging open behind his mask, he marveled at the neatly filed datapads inside. “It’s written in Cybertronian. I can read it!” Excitedly, he skimmed the various topics. Most looked like a daily journal for someone named Alpha Trion. There were five or so labeled medical records. He pulled those out first, wondering if there might be some information on the larger warrior with the matrix in stasis.

The first one he turned on was a detailed record of sparkling creations and mech deaths. He smiled when he saw Jazz on the record, and as he scrolled backward through time he saw Hound, and Trailbreaker and Prowl one right after the other. There was a notation link next to Prowl’s name, and he tapped it. It brought up a screen with an entry:

_There have only been two successful sparkling creations of Praxian traited mechs and this is the second. Both Prowl and Smokescreen had bonded Praxian creators. Mixed Praxian and non-Praxian bonded couples have not been able to spark. I cannot tell if the Praxian sparks are less compatible with non-Praxian or if it simply a side effect of the advanced age of the Praxians left._

First Aid exited the entry. It sounded like some of the research medical journals he would read during his training. He went through all five datapads marked ‘medical records’ but there was nothing about the larger warrior in any of them. He sighed, sliding them back into the drawer and pulling out the first one marked as a journal.

Making himself comfortable on the berth with a soft pad, he began to read about Alpha Trion’s life.

…

Late into the night, First Aid continued to read the journals. He heard Jazz groan in the front, and set aside the datapad to go check on him.

Jazz had a pained expression on his face, and he rubbed the middle of his chest. When he saw first Aid he asked him a bunch of questions. None of which First Aid could answer. He picked up the syringe filled with only pain killer and went to his berthside.

“That nick on the outside of your chamber is what hurts so much. I can take the edge off with this,” he said as he pressed the syringe into his elbow seam and squeezed.

Relief washed over Jazz’s face and he relaxed in the berth.

First Aid gently touched Jazz’s chest as he spoke.

“Try to rest. It'll heal fastest if you recharge.”

Jazz gazed up at him, warmly smiling. He softly murmured his appreciation.

First Aid sat down on the berth next to Jazz’s and waited for him to slip back into recharge. At least he was helping, even if it was by force.

From what he'd read so far, Alpha Trion’s mission had been to locate Praxus. Instead he found this group of mechs. He wrote of his struggles to understand their language, and his descriptions were of a nomadic group that traveled and set up camp in timed intervals along a set path.

Once Jazz was deeply recharging, First Aid quietly returned to the back room and resumed reading.

_After hours of tinkering with some software on my datapad, I've written a translation program._

First Aid perked up at that.

_I've transferred the program to a data chip that I then installed in the external hub in my arm. It's slow to work, but I'm starting to pick up on words and phrases. I hope in time I'll be able to converse freely with these mechs._

“But where is that chip now?” First Aid asked the datapad fruitlessly. He set it aside and began to comb through all the belongings in the drawers. It had to be here somewhere. He rechecked every drawer and found nothing. He huffed and looked around the room, trying to imagine where he might put something that important for safe keeping.

That's when his gaze focused on a small decorative shelf above the head of the berth covered with several small, ornately etched boxes. He crawled into the berth and knelt in front of the shelf. He opened the box to the far left, finding a small piece of metal. “Weird.” He opened three more finding the oddest things inside them; more metal fragments, a coil, and pretty orange crystal shard. Figuring this was a dumb place to look he opened the last box more out of boredom than anything else and there it was: the data chip.

Gently picking it up, he gazed at it, spark pulsing faster. “Primus, I hope it still works. Only one way to find out.” Flipping his wrist over, he retracted the cover to his external hub and snapped it in. Optics dimming, his internal system ran checks on the datachip to be sure no viruses were detected, and when it came back clean, his processor downloaded the contents.

His processor integrated the files, finding some bad coding that ended in errors here and there, but for the most part the core of the program installed completely. Now he’d have to wait to see if it would still work.

…

Prowl arrived early in the morning, sitting at Jazz’s berthside and holding his hand as they spoke lovingly to one another. Ironhide had come with him and kept a sharp optic on the pair. First Aid found the program frustratingly slow. Only a word here and there were translating:

 _Bonding ceremony. Love. Miss you_.

It was enough to tell First Aid these two were definitely together, but what he didn’t understand was why Ironhide was there watching them and not saying anything.

First Aid continued to listen to them and walked over to the large warrior, rechecking the unhealed wound. He wished he had a way to analyze this mech’s internal fluid. It would tell him if he lacked nanites for repair, or if they weren’t being activated by his autorepair to do their job. Without knowing the reason behind his halted healing, he didn’t feel confident trying anything.

Ironhide said something, and First Aid looked up. He was gently speaking to Prowl. Something about ‘duty’ and his ‘obligations’ and ‘rest’ for Jazz.

Prowl reluctantly nodded, and kissed Jazz’s fingers, lingering. Jazz smiled brightly, and then shooed Prowl to leave. The two then turned and bowed deeply in the direction of the warrior in stasis, while murmuring something in a reverent tone. First Aid truly wondered who this mech was to them. The program only translated the word ‘sacred’ but they seem to use that word when talking about First Aid, too, so he figured it was a glitch in the translation. Soon Prowl and Ironhide left.

First Aid puttered around a little more, neatening his supplies on the berth, and trying his best not to think about Kaon and Ratchet. He missed his mentor more than he thought possible, but it wasn’t all that surprising. After all, Ratchet had basically been a creator to him, teaching him all he knew about being a proper medic and being a mech in general.

Jazz murmured worriedly at First Aid.

Glancing at him, he frowned behind his mask. The program failed to translate any words from what Jazz said. A slow program was still better than no program at all, though. Sadly, he lacked the ability to write code. It was a skill and set of system upgrades Ratchet wanted to do for First Aid when he returned. “So much for that,” he said to himself.

He went to Jazz’s side and gently pushed him to lie back down, which he seemed to understand the implications of. Jazz relaxed and soon his visor flickered off.

Once he was resting again, First Aid quietly wandered into the back room, and settled in to read more of Alpha Trion’s journals. Maybe he’d find some sort of answers to explain the mysterious warrior and learn more about the world he was now trapped in.


	5. Translating...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Aid copes as best he can, and makes a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapters. I barely have time for writing these days, so it's slow coming...

“It was all my fault.” Hound heavily sighed as he watched Trailbreaker attach the armor pieces together with small but sturdy rivets.

“But he's going to be okay. You said the healer laid hands on him and he's well again, right?” Trailbreaker asked, carefully working to finish his gift for First Aid.

Hound looked miserable. “Yeah, I think so. But he shouldn't have been stabbed in the first place. Why did he jump in front of me and take the strike like that? He's going to be bonded to Prowl. His status is so much higher than mine. If I had been faster with my own club—”

“Primus, you've been around Blue too much. You're starting to sound like him,” Trailbreaker gently teased his friend.

Hound huffed and shook his head. “I need to go apologize to him,” he said with finality.

“Well, my gift for the healer is done.” He held up the gleaming white armor with red detailing and the fully etched front panel. “Let's both go down and see them.”

“That's one of the most beautiful pieces you've ever made,” Hound said in awe as he gazed at it.

Shyly smiling, Trailbreaker folded it carefully and held it against his chest. “I hope he'll like it.”

Hound then sadly smiled. “It's too late, isn't it?”

“Too late?” Trailbreaker repeated, confused.

“You're smitten with him, even though healers are off limits for relationships,” Hound clarified with a worried expression.

Trailbreaker dimmed his optics behind his visor. “I know the rules. I would never defile him, I just… He shouldn't be running around uncovered and I want to show my appreciation for all he's done.”

“I say this as someone that cares about you: be careful.” Hound pat his friend’s arm. “Let's go down to see them.”

…

_The group referred to as “Vosian Decepticons” have attacked the camp. It's been completely destroyed. We scattered into the extensive cavern system in the mountainside to hide and the new, young leader Optimus has been alone in a nearby cave consulting with the matrix on what our next move should be._

_I never intended to become a part of this group, only observe, but in my years here with them, they've come to depend on my expertise as a medic and I on them for learning the secrets of the world beneath our feet._

First Aid was so engrossed in reading Alpha Trion's journals he yelped when Jazz tapped the doorway to the back room where he’d settled in on the berth.

Jazz laughed at his strangled cry of surprise then started talking and pointing to his wound area. The translation program picked up ‘no pain’ and ‘feeling better’.

Setting aside the datapad, First Aid got up and pressed a hand to area. It was warm but within a safe range to be discharged. “You can go, even though I can't,” he said with a frown behind his mask.

Jazz canted his head quizzically, clearly not understanding.

The main door opened, and Hound walked in with Trailbreaker just behind him, distracting Jazz.  He happily bounced on his toes over to them, greeting them with a huge smile.

Hound ducked his head and then started to talk in a low, regretful tone. ‘I'm sorry’ was the only clear phrase the program translated.

Jazz shook his head, then pressed their forehelms together, murmuring words of comfort. Whatever he'd said made Hound smile and wrap his arms around him in an affectionate hug.

Behind them, Trailbreaker was nervously squeezing something in his hands while alternately smiling at his friends and glancing at First Aid.

Jazz and Hound let go of one another and Jazz inquired about the white item in Trailbreaker’s hands. ‘A gift for First Aid’ translated clearly.

Jazz then frowned with a worried look. The word ‘sacred’ came up again along with ‘be careful’.

First Aid frowned behind his mask, not happy with the glitchy translations he was getting. Still it was better than not understanding them at all. And in a few days the program should finally finish converting a core set of words and grammar parameters, allowing him to speak to them. Unfortunately the program was not only glitchy but slow to work.

Trailbreaker assured Jazz, and then walked around them toward First Aid.

Stepping out from the back room to meet his first patient in the field, First Aid’s hidden frown softened to a small smile. This mech was different. He didn't demand anything of First Aid, spoke to him in a kind tone, and seemed to genuinely care about him.

Holding out the item with both hands, Trailbreaker bowed his head and spoke. ‘A gift in thanks’ translated clearly.

First Aid took it from Trailbreaker’s grasp, holding up the white item. The slats fell downward and First Aid suddenly recognized that this was a set of hip armor. Staring at the beautifully etched front panel his mouth gaped behind his mask. He looked at Trailbreaker and said the only word he really knew in their language. “Krowka.”

Trailbreaker brightly smiled.

First Aid fumbled with the armor, trying to figure out how to put it on.

Jazz was chuckling and Hound smiling as they watched his feeble efforts.

Stepping forward, Trailbreaker held out his hands and said something that translated as ‘help’. First Aid returned the armor to Trailbreaker, and watched him unhook a hidden latch, opening the armor from a side seam. As gingerly as possible, Trailbreaker wrapped it around First Aid’s hips and re-latched the armor. It fit him _perfectly_.

Petting the white slats of the new armor piece First Aid let his mask open to reveal the huge smile behind it. He gazed adoringly at this one mech out of all them that he didn't want to run away from. “Krowka,” he said again.

Trailbreaker looked surprised but happy at the reveal of part of his face.

Letting the air directly filter though his intakes, First Aid realized that the air wasn't contaminated at all down here. He probably didn't need to keep his mask engaged to protect his intakes like he had back in Kaon.

Jazz spoke up, and Trailbreaker nodded. It took a moment but then the program translated ‘leave’.

First Aid’s smile immediately evaporated.

Trailbreaker looked back at him just as the idea of being left all alone drained away his smile. At being caught, First Aid quickly snapped his mask shut and then retreated into the back room.

He heard them chat for a moment, then walk out. The distinctive sound of the door snapping shut echoed in the main area. He slumped against the wall, despair creeping in again. Fingering the pretty piece of armor, he sighed. One of them being kind to him wasn't enough to make up for his imprisonment. “I want to go home…”

…

Trailbreaker tossed around in his berth of blankets. No matter what he did, he couldn't drift off. The image of First Aid’s reaction to Jazz and Hound saying they should go wouldn't stop playing in his mind. It was as if he understood them. But how? He'd been here for days and other than learning how to say ‘thank you’, he seemed clueless about their language until that moment.

Pushing to sit up, Trailbreaker made a rash decision.

He climbed out of his berth, and then exited his quarters, walking as silently as possible down the walkway to the bottom. Only a handful of crystal lights were on, giving their home an eerie air at night. But all was thankfully quiet, everyone else deeply recharging like he should be.

He crossed the open area to the corridor that in turn led to the door of the healer cavern. His fingers hovered over the keypad. To go in without a witness after Prowl caught him here once before would mean disciplinary action. He never went against the rules, but this time he felt he had to break them in order to learn the truth.

He keyed the code and the door opened.

Walking in, the main area was only lit around the medical berth Optimus lay in. First Aid had unhinged the other crystal lightings to turn them off. The other berths were empty so Trailbreaker approached the half-closed door to Alpha Trion’s old quarters. Peering in, he saw First Aid curled up recharging hugging a lit datapad to his chest. He smiled at the sight, also happy to see First Aid still had the hip armor on, too.

He hated to wake him, but he only had a small window of time before the early morning group of weavers would get up to set up the machines for the day. Quietly opening the door and entering, he lightly touched First Aid’s foot to wake him. Whining in protest, First Aid curled into a tight ball.

“Please, we need to talk,” Trailbreaker said, gently touching his lower leg.

First Aid replied in his language as his visor lit up. He then froze, staring at Trailbreaker.

“I'm sorry to wake you. I just-thing is, earlier today, did you-what I mean to ask is; can you understand what we say?” Trailbreaker asked.

Sitting himself up, First Aid slowly nodded then with his fingers made a pinched gesture.

“You understand a little?” Trailbreaker asked.

First Aid nodded firmly. He turned off the old datapad and scooted over to make room for Trailbreaker to sit, patting the open space.

Trailbreaker hesitated but relented, sitting while frowning at First Aid. “You can't speak our language, though?”

First Aid shook his head, then tapped his wrist followed by tapping his helm.

“I don't know what you're trying to say,” Trailbreaker replied.

First Aid opened a cover piece on his lower arm revealing hub ports, one of which had a data chip in it. He tapped it once, then tapped the side of his head again.

“It's translating for you?” Trailbreaker asked.

Huffing, First Aid mumbled something and shook his head.

“Hmm. Let's stick to yes or no questions?” Trailbreaker suggested.

Lighting up at that, First Aid nodded.

“You can understand some of what I say?” Trailbreaker asked to recap.

First Aid nodded.

“You're able to do that through the chip?”

Head shake for no.

“The chip is…” he paused trying imagine what else it could be for. “...Still installing something?”

A sharp nod.

“Oooh. I think I get it. Your processor is still downloading something from it? And after it does you'll be able to speak our language?”

First Aid opened his mask up, smiling and nodding.

“It would make things much easier if you could tell Prowl what's wrong with our Prime,” Trailbreaker replied.

“Prime?” First Aid repeated.

“The mech in that berth out there. He's our leader. Well, he was. We were called on by local groups to help stop the Vosian Decepticons. He led us in a battle against them and their non-Vosian leader. He had this thing on his arm, it blasted the huge hole in our Prime’s side. We had to retreat. Prowl’s been in charge since, and everything is a mess now,” Trailbreaker tried to explain.

First Aid frowned.

“You can't fix him, can you?” Trailbreaker asked.

Holding up his hand, First Aid tilted it back and forth.

Unsure what that meant, Trailbreaker's frown deepened. “You _can_ fix him?”

First Aid sighed and shook his head looking away, muttering something.

“Okay, whatever your answer is, it's too complicated for yes or no. So, how about this? Are you unhappy here?” Trailbreaker asked.

First Aid met his gaze again and sadly frowned as he nodded.

Trailbreaker sighed. “I'm sorry. I really am. Prowl locked you in here because he's worried you'll be overrun by the rest of our group wanting you to lay hands on them to heal their minor ailments when our leader needs all your healing. Plus, I think he's worried you might try to leave by entering the tunnels and they aren't safe.”

First Aid stared at him, frowning. Then he got up and pointed to a crudely drawn map Alpha Trion put up on the wall next to the berth. He pointed to a group of rectangle shapes, talking in a distressed tone.

After a moment of studying the map, Trailbreaker suddenly realized what First Aid was trying to tell him. “You want to return to the place you came from?”

Nodding fervently, First Aid kept talking. He touched the map and the only word Trailbreaker picked up on was a name, Ratchet. “We took you away from someone you belong with?” Sadness filled his chest at the thought this mech might already be with someone that loved him not that he should care, but a small part of him did. “I guess healers aren't sacred in your homeland…”

First Aid stopped talking when Trailbreaker muttered the last sentence. He plopped back down next to him, repeating “sacred” slowly with a questioning tone as he pointed to himself.

“Yes, you're sacred. So is our Prime. And the healer Alpha Trion was, too. You all have abilities beyond the rest of us,” Trailbreaker replied.

With a small smile, First Aid said “sacred” again and pointed to Trailbreaker.

“Oh, no, no! Not me! I'm nothing special.” His face heated in embarrassment at being mistaken for someone so important.

First Aid gestured around in the air, speaking quickly again. Then he put his arms out wide, mimicking Trailbreaker’s force field and calling him “sacred” again.

Trailbreaker chuckled. “That's just a modification I found when we scavenged a while back and Hound helped me install it. It's come in pretty handy, though.”

Pointing to himself, First Aid replied. Trailbreaker wished he could understand what he said. Frowning when he realized he wasn't making it clear what he intended to convey, First Aid sighed.

“You can talk my audios once that installation software is done?” He said, smiling at First Aid.

Firmly nodding once, First Aid smiled back.

“Also, I want you to know, I'll try my best to help you here. I don't agree with what Prowl’s doing even if I know why. So I'll see if I can at least get him to stop locking you up in here. Okay?” Trailbreaker said, trying to ignore the true feelings that were driving his desire to help the healer.

First Aid nodded again.

“I should go. Let you recharge. Sorry I woke you up,” he said, pushing to stand.

Also getting to his feet, First Aid grabbed Trailbreaker’s hand and squeezed it. “Krowka.”

“You're pronunciation is much better,” Trailbreaker said with a bright smile, squeezing his hand gently in return. “And anytime. You can always talk to me okay?”

First Aid nodded as he replied in his language.  
Trailbreaker wished he could do more than make promises he wasn’t entirely sure he could keep, but at least he seemed to bring some measure of comfort to First Aid.


	6. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trailbreaker and Prowl both struggle with what they want and how they feel. And First Aid might have more than one mech on his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter! Woo!

Emerging from the corridor, Trailbreaker slowed. Across the open area stood Prowl, arms crossed and wings flaring out. _Frag_.

Trailbreaker walked up to their current leader, head bowed. “It's late, sir.”

“It is.” Prowls gaze hardened. “When I heard footfall I decided to investigate. Why did you go to the healer cavern alone after I explicitly told you not to?”

The only way Prowl heard him was if he'd been in the main tent still awake. Trailbreaker frowned a little, both upset at being caught and concerned that Prowl wasn't recharging. “I wanted to see him. That's all.”

“In the middle of the night?” Prowl asked. “Did you… Defile him?”

“Of course not!” Trailbreaker held up his hands in defense. “I'd never harm or diminish his sacred status. I only wanted to talk with him alone, well, as best as I can considering the language barrier.”

“Why alone?” Prowl asked.

“He's shy around others. With me he tends to open up a bit.” Trailbreaker's shoulders sagged. “I shouldn't have gone alone, I'm sorry.”

“You know better,” Prowl said, lowering his arms from their crossed position. “We’ve known each other all our lives, and I've never seen you break any of our rules or traditions.”

“If I didn't feel strongly about this, I wouldn't have.” Trailbreaker gazed at his one-time playmate. Things had been so much simpler back when they were sparklings and their status within the group didn't matter in their daily lives.

“I take no pleasure in disciplining you or anyone for that case but our rules are in place for a reason,” Prowl replied with regret in his voice.

“He's unhappy, Prowl. You can keep him confined all you want and I don't think he's going to heal our Prime. If you give him some freedom, let him wander our home, perhaps a warmer mood would mean he'd be able to better heal,” Trailbreaker tried to reason.

Prowl held Trailbreaker’s visored gaze. “It's late. Go get some rest. We will speak tomorrow.”

Shoulders sagging, Trailbreaker nodded. “Okay.” He shuffled toward the walkway then paused and glanced back at Prowl. “You should rest, too.”

Prowl’s doorwings lowered, then he turned on his heel and stalked back over to the meeting tent to presumably go over their maps and fret about the situation with the Vosian Decepticons more.

Trailbreaker sighed. Things were such a mess, they needed their Prime back before Prowl cracked under the pressure of leadership.

...

There was an endless pile of work sitting on his workbench. Trailbreaker sorted through the projects, prioritizing them according to social status and when the request came in. His spark wasn't in the work, though. He was simply walking through the motions. His mind was elsewhere, specifically on First Aid and his unhappiness. “Shouldn’t have promised to help him…” Trailbreaker muttered to himself. After being caught by Prowl last night, he expected a reprimand or some sort soon, and he was helpless to do anything for First Aid now.

“Trailbreaker?”

Looking up from his pile of work, he smiled at his timid-looking visitor, Bluestreak. “Hey, Blue. Did you need something?”

“Um, actually, Prowl wanted me to come get you and bring you down to the meeting tent. He said he had something to talk to you about,” Bluestreak replied, nervously wringing his hands.

“I see.” Trailbreaker pushed his stool back and got to his feet. Already time for his reprimand it seemed.

Bluestreak had been rescued as a sparkling, hiding in the back of a cave after his creators had been killed right in front of him. A fellow nomadic group found him, and brought him to live with theirs since they had the only other surviving Praxian builds. He was a nervous young mech who was incredibly sweet but also tended to talk non-stop.

“Prowl is sending me on my first mission. I’m nervous, but he seems to think I can handle it. What do you think? I’m only three thousand vorns, and I know I have so much more to learn. But then, I’ve been in my adult upgrades for a while now, so it’s only natural I go on missions. I just hope I’m ready to handle things in case we get attacked or something. I can practice all I want here in the archery cavern, but it’s probably a lot different fighting for real, right?” Bluestreak managed to talk the entire walk down to the meeting tent.

Trailbreaker smiled at the young mech. “You’ll be fine, Blue.”

They entered the tent, greeted by Prowl at the main table and Ironhide standing to the side, arms crossed over his chest.

“You needed to see me?” Trailbreaker asked, unsure why both Bluestreak and Ironhide were here, too. He was pretty sure only _he’d_ broken the rules…

“You are as of this moment assigned to this new group. You will go with Bluestreak and Ironhide, show them the location of the crystal forest you found your last haul at and harvest more. I’d rather take more from the larger crystals than continuing to pick from the much smaller ones on the mountain side closer,” Prowl said, lacing his fingers together and resting his hands on the table.

“Um, oh. Alright. Did we not gather enough last time?” Trailbreaker asked.

“You gathered plenty for our general needs, but perhaps the healer requires more for his own powers to grow strong enough to restore Optimus,” Prowl explained.

So this was his reprimand. Being sent away for what was a week-long trek into dangerous territory.

“When do we leave?” Trailbreaker asked.

“As soon as you gear up,” Ironhide replied.

Panic instantly gripped his spark at that. Not even a moment to go tell First Aid he would be gone for a week? “I’ll go get my proper armor on.”

“Meet us at the ruins entrance in fifteen,” Ironhide replied in a curt tone as he stalked out of the meeting tent.

Bluestreak grinned brightly at Trailbreaker. “We’ll have the best time!”

Forcing a smile, Trailbreaker nodded to the young mech.

“Both of you, be on your way,” Prowl said, shooing them out of the tent.

Trailbreaker parted ways with Bluestreak and jogged up the walkway to his quarters. He ducked inside and grabbed his heavier two sets of armor and a few small sacks he could put his gathered crystals in. He also grabbed a wad of thin wire for sculpting and stuffed it into a hidden pocket in his armor. Stepping out, he darted down three units to Hound’s and ducked inside without knocking.

Hound was busy reading a novel on an old datapad that barely worked. The corner was flickering. He nearly jumped right out of his seated position when Trailbreaker burst inside his quarters. “What the frag, ‘Breaker?”

“I need you do me a _huge_ favor,” Trailbreaker said urgently.

“How huge?” Hound asked with a dubious look.

“Look, last night I went and saw the healer on my own--”

“You what?” Hound interrupted.

“Something was nagging at me, and I had to see for myself. Turns out he’s got some software installing that’s starting to translate our language for him. He can understand us mostly, but he can’t really reply yet,” Trailbreaker tried to explain as quickly as possible.

“Whoa. You need to tell Prowl--”

“No! Not yet. Not until he's ready to speak our language. Problem is, Prowl caught me leaving and now I’m being sent on a weeklong mission with Ironhide and Blue. Can you find a way to tell him I’ll be back? To wait for me to help him then?” Trailbreaker asked, shifting his weight from anxiously foot to foot.

“Help him with what, exactly?” Hound asked. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, but you tend to be very… _overwhelming_ when you’re attracted to mechs. Nothing can happen between you two. You’re aware of that, right?”

Trailbreaker’s spark contracted painfully in it’s chamber as old memories of his attempt to court Hound and subsequent rejection churned to the surface for a moment. “Don’t get you _wrong_? How could I possibly take having that thrown in my face as wrong?”

Hound frowned at that. “I didn’t mean it like that. I care about you deeply. I don’t want you get hurt over all of this.”

“I moved on Hound. We’re friends. I hope, anyway. And I’m asking you tell him I’ll be back. I’m placing all my spark’s trust in you,” Trailbreaker replied, trying to hide the thread of anger and hurt from his voice.

“Help him, how?” Hound asked again in a less accusatory tone.

“Help him by getting Prowl to stop locking him up in there. It’s stressful for him, and I don’t think it’s going to help recharge his healing abilities being cooped up like that,” Trailbreaker explained.

“Hm, probably not. But Prowl has been a little more unhinged than usual, lately,” Hound replied.

Trailbreaker frowned. “I don’t think he’s been recharging.”

“Because of the bonding ceremony?”

“Don’t know, but will you please relay my message?” Trailbreaker asked. “I’ve got to go. They’re probably already waiting up there for me.”

Hound took Trailbreaker’s hand and pressed it flat against his chestplate. “I will give him your message. And...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw anything in your face.”

Trailbreaker was weak when it came to his friends, Hound in particular. “It’s okay. Maybe we should talk when I get back, though.”

“Maybe we should,” Hound agreed with a small smile.

Flexing his fingers against Hound’s chest, Trailbreaker lingered for a moment. Rejected as a potential bondmate or not, he still very much cared for Hound.

“Go,” Hound said, letting go of his hand. “I’ll take care of the healer while you’re gone.”

“Thanks,” Trailbreaker replied.

He ducked back out of Hound’s quarters and started to jog up the ramp.

“Be safe!” Hound called out behind him.

He half-turned and smiled at him. “Always.”

…

“Jazz? You busy?” Hound called out before lifting the blanket covering the entrance to his quarters.

“Super busy, but maybe you can help me!” Jazz gestured excitedly for Hound to come in.

On his small table sat several trinkets. Hound sat down on a cushion opposite of Jazz at the table and smiled a little. “Deciding what gift to give Prowl next?”

“Primus, this is way harder than it looks. I mean, see this here?” He picked up a black, smoothed rock. “This is organic! I found it on a salvage a long time ago. It's super rare, and I like how it feels in my hand. Here hold it.” He shoved it Hound.

Taking it, Hound fingered the object, awed by its rarity and beauty. “This is lovely. Why not give him this?”

“Because this is cool, too!” Jazz picked up a small ornately carved box. “It has scenes from an ancient city carved in micro-detail on it.” He held it up so Hound could see.

“Wow. Where did you find that?” Hound asked.

“When we cleaned out an old cavern to turn into the training facility. I think he'd really like it.” Jazz carefully set it down among at least ten more similarly rare or beautiful objects. “I can't decide.”

Hound chuckled. “The best gift you could give him right now is rest. He's apparently not been recharging.”

Jazz looked up at Hound and frowned. “I know. Smokes told me when he was lettin’ me know he'd be our chaperone while Ironhide’s away.”

“Before you started the bonding ritual, was he getting rest?” Hound asked.

“Sort of? When I was still staying in his quarters most of the time he'd recharge, but it was fitful. He'd toss all night, wake me up a lot,” Jazz replied.

Hound sighed. “I'm glad you're going bond with him but it seems like the waiting period for the ritual is pretty hard on him.”

“Which is makin’ things hard for everyone else. I know. I'm gonna have a chaperoned visit with him later and I'll try to talk to him. I know it's causin’ a lot of tension in the group.” Jazz fingered another item on the table his bright smile replaced by a dull sadness. “I want to be good for him, Hound. I want to make up for my mistakes and show him how much I love him. But I dunno. Maybe I'm not the-”

“You're perfect for him. Mistakes or not, I've only ever seen him smile around _you_ ,” Hound interrupted.

Jazz looked up at Hound again and warmly smiled. “I guess the point of the ritual is to test how we feel. I miss him like crazy.”

Hound chuckled a little at that. “I sorta had another motive for popping in here.”

“Heh, I didn't even ask! Too wrapped up in my stuff. What's up?” Jazz asked.

“I might've promised to go see the healer and relay a message,” Hound replied with a slight wince.

Jazz sat back and groaned a little. “Oh Primus! ‘Breaker put you on the spot? What kind of message could you possibly have? That healer only knows ‘thank you’.”

“Apparently he knows more. He's got a translation program running. He can understand parts of what we say but can't reply yet, according to Trailbreaker,” Hound explained. “He went down last night alone to healer cavern and Prowl caught him coming out.”

“Frag. So that's why he got suddenly tacked onto the mission group heading out.” Jazz sighed. “Why can't he get the fact he's not supposed to fall for a healer?”

“He gets attached. You know how he is. But he's got the biggest, kindest spark. I don't think he'd ever do anything to defile the healer, he just wants to help him.” Hound frowned a little. “And he said the healer is really unhappy being locked up.”

Jazz heavily sighed. “You want me to talk to Prowl about lockin’ him in there, huh?”

“Could you? Also, would you come with me to talk to the healer?” Hound asked, with a sheepish look.

Jazz half-smiled. “Yeeeah, alright. Let's go down there and I'll see if I can talk to Prowl later ‘bout everything.”

“Thanks on behalf of Trailbreaker _and_ me,” Hound replied.

“We’re a core team. We stick together,” Jazz replied with a bright smile.

…

They'd walked all day. The light had started to fade in the sky overhead. Ironhide scouted out a semi-covered area under an outcrop of mountainside area for them to set up camp for the evening.

Trailbreaker didn't like being out here in dangerous territory, but he did enjoy the cycles of the day. Seeing daylight and later the starry sky of night made his spark sing. Their underground home was safe, but it lacked the sensation of robust life being out in the wilds gave Trailbreaker.

“I have the base,” Bluestreak said excitedly. He unhooked the transformable armor and folded it into the light base before setting it down on the ground. “Who has the dome and crystal?”

“That would be me,” Trailbreaker replied with a smile. Bluestreak’s excitement was pretty adorable. He unhooked the dome, handing it to his young companion, then reached into a pocket of hip armor, taking out a crystal.

“Can I do it?” Bluestreak asked, paused with his hand ready to snatch the crystal from Trailbreaker.

“Absolutely.” Trailbreaker chuckled.

Bluestreak crouched down and set up the light for the evening. “So we have one more day of walking? Then we’ll be at the crystal forest you guys found last time? Where you also found our new healer?”

Trailbreaker’s smile faded a little and he nodded. “The crystals there are huge. You'll be impressed.”

“Alright, the area seems secure enough. But with flying Decepticons around, we’ll do shifts overnight keeping lookout,” Ironhide said, stalking up to them.

“Isn't this when we sit and rest our feet and have some energon, though?” Bluestreak asked.

Ironhide’s harsh expression softened. “Yeah, it is, kid. Let's unwind a bit.”

It was practically impossible to not be infected by Bluestreak’s excitement about his first mission. They all settled in and quietly chewed on small bites of raw energon. Trailbreaker stared upward at the darker side of the sky which revealed distant glittery stars.

“Heard that before the cataclysm we used to fly up into the stars,” Ironhide mused, also looking upward.

“You weren't around during the cataclysm?” Bluestreak asked in all seriousness.

Trailbreaker snorted and burst out laughing.

“Hey now! I'm old, but not _that_ old!” Ironhide replied with a bright-opticked look.

“Oh. Sorry...” Bluestreak smiled and resumed chewing.

Being put with another team wasn't so bad, but as Bluestreak began to chatter away and Ironhide replied when he could get a word in, Trailbreaker realized he missed Jazz’s singing and Hound’s off-key attempts to join in. They were a core team, having gone on countless missions together. His best friends. As much as he liked Bluestreak and Ironhide he hoped this reassignment was temporary.

He also hoped First Aid got his message...

…

Jazz keyed in the code and the door to the healer cavern slid open. Hound followed him in. The healer was nowhere in sight, but the door to the back room was cracked open. Hound and Jazz both bowed and murmured the prayer for healing to their Prime before walking past him.

Hound wondered when their leader would ever wake again. He had been the grounding force of their group, and without him things just weren’t the same.

After gently pushing the door open a little wider, Jazz peeked inside. “Hey, there.”

First Aid was engrossed in reading the datapads again, and looked up with surprise at the greeting.

“Mind if we come in a sec?” Jazz asked, pushing the door the rest of the way open.

Hound followed Jazz just inside. The healer didn’t have his lower mask engaged, and Hound noticed a chunk of partly eaten energon inside a container beside him.

The healer said something, frowning at the two of them.

“Sorry to bother you, it’s just that I have a message to give you from Trailbreaker,” Hound said.

First Aid suddenly looked worried as he said, “Trailbreaker?”

“You can understand us? He said you could,” Hound replied.

Pressing his lips tightly together, First Aid didn’t confirm or deny the question.

“I dunno, seems like he’s got no clue what we’re sayin’,” Jazz said to Hound.

First Aid frowned and got a confused look on his face.

“Trailbreaker said he could, but--” Hound looked at First Aid and sadly frowned. “You don’t trust us. You only trust him, right?”

Folding his arms over his chest, First Aid looked down at the floor and muttered something.

“I get it. We brought you here, and next thing you’re locked up in here. I didn’t think Prowl would do that,” Hound tried to lamely explain. “Look, here’s Trailbreaker’s message, he wanted me to tell you he’ll be away for a week on a mission, and to wait until he’s back. He’ll try to help you then.”

First Aid looked up at that, face pinched with worry as he began to babble forlornly.

“He does understand…” Jazz was shocked for a moment. “He wants to help, but thing is nothin’ he can say will change Prowl’s mind.”

First Aid said something that definitely sounded like a curse word followed by Prowl’s name. He then got to his feet and pointed to the map on the wall at a grouping of rectangles, continuing to speak quickly and repeating the word ‘Kaon’ when he pointed.

Hound studied the old hand drawn map for a moment. “Ka-on, that’s a place? The place you were going when we found you?”

First Aid nodded, looking almost desperate.

“He wants to go home, Jazz,” Hound said with a frown.

“His home is polluted accordin’ to legend. Why would he wanna go back to that?” Jazz asked with a scowl.

“Home, Jazz. It’s what he knows best. Remember Alpha Trion telling us about those places and how the mechs there didn’t ever travel like we do? Well, did. But you know what I mean.” Hound then looked at First Aid. “We got you into this, we’ll help however we can.”

“Kaon?” First Aid pointed again, urgency in his voice.

Jazz put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Let’s put the brakes on, tackle this one thing at a time. First thing’s first, you let me talk some sense into Prowl.”

First Aid looked utterly confused and shook his head.

“I don’t think he understood you,” Hound said after a moment.

First Aid nodded in agreement with Hound.

“What? What’d I say that made no sense?” Jazz asked.

“Oh, heh. You have some of your creator’s accent and use a lot more slang. The program must not be able to translate it,” Hound explained with a small smile.

Visor brightening, First Aid slowly nodded in agreement with Hound.

“Primus! Then _you_ translate for me,” Jazz said, poking Hound in the side.

Hound wriggled away, chuckling. “He’s supposed to bond with Prowl. So he’ll talk to him and see about getting the door to this cavern unlocked. You might have to be supervised by one of us outside of here, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

First Aid sighed, then nodded and sat back down.

He muttered something more and Hound swore he heard him say a name, Ratchet. “How long before that program helps you speak our language?”

First Aid shrugged at that with a frown.

“Slow goin’, hm?” Jazz frowned a little. “Well, I should scoot. I gotta go pick out a present and then see Prowl.”

Hound looked at First Aid. “Are you okay in here alone? You want us to come back after Jazz’s visit with Prowl?”

First Aid looked at Hound, seemingly surprised by the offer. Then he nodded.

“Okay. We’ll be back.” Hound smiled at First Aid.

Smiling back, First Aid seem to relax a little. Hound could see in him what Trailbreaker did. He wasn’t the confident and knowing mech Hound had come to associate with sacred status mechs like Optimus or what he remembered of Alpha Trion. He was confident when he healed Jazz, but when he wasn’t laying his hands on someone to heal he was almost timid and shy. And right now he just looked distressed and unhappy. Hound should’ve listened to Trailbreaker more closely. Taken better notice of what was going on.

Hound gazed at First Aid, seeing him in a very different light. “I’ll bring you something a little tastier than that hunk of energon, so don’t go overfilling your tank.”

Jazz chuckled. “He makes the best treats, you’ll love ‘em.”

First Aid frowned at Jazz, clearly not understanding him.

“What the-I really talk that funny?” Jazz asked.

Hound stifled a laugh. “Let’s get going.”

…

Jazz had washed up with some water from the pipe system that somehow still worked down here. He remembered when he was small having his creators dump buckets of water over him to get all the dust off after he’d played all day. Everyone used to wash up together as a group, adults and sparklings alike. Now that they lived down here in the old ruins, washing was no longer a communal activity. It was a cave with a half crushed ceiling and a set of pipes and stalls with spouts only mechs returning from missions ever used.

Patting his plating, Jazz looked in his mirror to make sure he was presentable. Satisfied, he picked up the chosen trinket and smiled.

Despite their long history together, _and_ despite the fact Prowl had said yes to him when he asked for a bond, Jazz still felt a nervous flutter in his fuel tank as he approached Prowl’s quarters. He steadied himself and then knocked on the doorframe.

“Come in!” Smokescreen yelled.

“I’m not ready!” Prowl snapped.

“You’re as ready as you can be. Stop being so dramatic.” Smokescreen lifted the blanket over the door and smiled at Jazz. “He’s not ready yet, apparently.”

“I can wait,” Jazz quickly replied.

“No, it’s fine. Come in,” Prowl said from somewhere behind Smokescreen.

Stepping back, Smokescreen let Jazz enter. Prowl stood in the middle of the front room looking as nervous as Jazz felt. His sensor panels that Jazz loved to play with were twitching slightly.

“Don’t mind me,” Smokescreen said, plopping down in a pile of pillows in the corner and resuming some game he liked to play on an old datapad.

“You look amazing,” Jazz said.

Prowl smiled for a fleeting second, then it faded. “Thank you.”

“Um, here,” Jazz held out a small pouch with both hands to Prowl. “My gift to honor you.”

Taking it with both of his hands, they both bowed to one another. Prowl fingered the small pouch as they stood upright again. “I wasn’t expecting a gift every time I saw you during the ritual, you know.”

“Just want you know how serious this is for me. I’ve messed up with you before. I don’t want you to doubt me at all,” Jazz replied, face getting hot when he saw Smokescreen look up from his game at them.

“I have long since forgiven transgressions. Our age difference played a part, and it hurt, but didn’t change how much I love you,” Prowl replied, seemingly un-phased by Smokescreen watching. At least Ironhide didn’t stare like that when he was chaperoning.

“I love you, too,” Jazz replied, trying not to let their onlooker bother him. “Now open it up!”

Prowl smiled and then untied the top of the pouch. He slid the object out and into his hand. The small container etched with the ancient city on it sat neatly in the palm of his hand. “It’s gorgeous,” he said examining it closely.

“Open it,” Jazz said, almost bouncing where he stood with excitement.

Lifting the tiny lid, Prowl’s sensor panels lifted upward. “You’re spoiling me.” He picked up the chain and dangled it with the pendant in the air. “Is that ancient Cybertronian script?”

“Yeah, got no clue what it says, but it’s pretty. Thought it would look nice on you,” Jazz replied, beaming.

“I’ll wear it with pride.” Prowl walked over and set the small etched container on the same table as the other gifts Jazz had brought him. He laid out the chain and pendant next to it, admiring it for a moment before turning back to Jazz. He gestured to the pillows in the middle of the room. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Sure!” Jazz loved Prowl’s deluxe sized quarters. His front room was large and circular and the back room was where his berth was set up. He flopped into the pile of pillows with a huge grin.

Prowl picked up a tray with a pot and two cups on it. He set it down on the floor in the middle of the pillows and poured the liquid from the pot into each cup. “I brewed some energon over a little heat to make this. I hope it tastes alright. I’m out of some of the supplies we used to have to make proper steeped energon.”

“Got no doubt it’s tasty.” Jazz took the offered cup and sipped the steeped liquid. It was potent but good.

They sat quietly for a few minutes sipping the drinks and trading longing looks at one another. Jazz had practically moved himself in here after they’d made up. It felt weird being a visitor now, and even stranger to not be able to pounce on Prowl and play his body like an instrument. The celibacy and time apart during the ritual was important, he knew that, but it was only making him miss Prowl so much his spark hurt when they were allowed to see each other.

“Finished?” Prowl asked, holding out the tray to set the empty cup on.

“Yeah. It was really good.” Jazz set the cup on the tray and Prowl got up, placing it back on the side table. He returned to his spot on the pillows across from Jazz and softly sighed. He did look tired, like everyone had been saying. “So, how are you doin’?”

“I’m fine. And you?” Prowl responded.

“You look like you haven’t rested in weeks,” Jazz said, worried.

Prowl looked down at his hands folded in his lap. “I haven’t been able to recharge.”

“How come?” Jazz asked.

Prowl glanced for a second at Smokescreen, but he was once again fully immersed in whatever game he was playing. “We need our Prime. I don’t know what will happen if doesn’t wake.”

Jazz instinctively reached for Prowl’s hand, wanting to comfort him.  

“Ah! No touching. I know ‘Hide lets you hold hands, but you’re not supposed to,” Smokescreen said, peering at them over his datapad.

“Who knew ‘Hide was a softy?” Jazz quipped. He then sighed and looked back at Prowl. “You’re doin’ everything you can. Just gotta wait for the healer to do his thing.”

“He’s been in there almost a week. I witnessed him save your life, but he’s done nothing but _clean_ Optimus,” Prowl said, exasperated. “Why won’t he heal him?”

“Well, I was actually wantin’ to talk to you ‘bout him. The healer, I mean.” Jazz paused, wanting to carefully choose his words. “I just wonder if being isolated in there might be part of the problem?”

“Alpha Trion always stayed in there. He healed all our ailments,” Prowl replied in dismay.

“But this mech isn’t like Trion. He’s kinda like, I dunno, normal? You know when he’s not healing,” Jazz tried to explain. “Maybe being allowed to walk around a bit and see how we live might help?”

Prowl’s sensor panels twitched and he pressed his lips into a hardline. “Trailbreaker put you up to this? Did he tell you to try and convince me my actions were out of line?”

Exhaustion was making Prowl moody. Jazz frowned and held up his hands in defense. “No way. I told you when we took him there that I wasn’t sure lockin’ him up was the right move. Remember?”

With a sharp glare, Prowl vaguely nodded.

“I’m not sayin’ let him run around in the tunnels or even let him walk around the common areas on his own. He needs to be supervised, but maybe giving him a little more freedom will help him with healing Optimus.” Jazz felt like he was walking a fine line, not wanting to anger a clearly stressed and edgy Prowl but remain loyal to his best friends.

“Perhaps,” Prowl agreed after a moment, his anger fading and face suddenly looking even more tired.

“We got three more weeks of this ritual, Prowl. If we weren’t in the middle of it, I’d throw you down and ‘face you until you were too tired to even move and then you’d finally get some rest. But I can’t help you that way right now. You _gotta_ recharge,” Jazz said, concerned.

“I miss you,” Prowl quietly admitted. “My spark aches for you.”

“Mine does for you, too.” Jazz took hold of Prowl’s hand, giving Smokescreen a deathly side glare so he wouldn’t stop him. Then he looked back at Prowl. “Don’t fall to pieces on me. Please. I know you’re under a lot of pressure.”

Prowl stared into Jazz’s visor. “Take it off for me?”

“‘Course.” Jazz reached up with his free hand, removing his visor. They looked at one another optic to optic.

“Three weeks,” Prowl repeated. “We’re at the halfway mark.”

“Then I’m all yours, _forever_.” Jazz brightly smiled.

“Yes. You can let the healer out, but he must stay with you or Hound at all times. And I cannot allow him to be alone with Trailbreaker when he returns,” Prowl declared.

“You got it.” Jazz lifted Prowl’s hand up to his lips, intending to kiss the backs of his fingers.

“Okay, too far. No kissing of any part of him,” Smokescreen called out at them.

“Can’t blame a mech for tryin’,” Jazz said with a grin.

Prowl chuckled at that.

Jazz squeezed his hand. “Promise me you’ll recharge.”

“I’ll try,” Prowl quietly replied. “It’s not the same without you in my berth.”

Jazz missed being in his berth, too. “Three weeks. We can do it.”

“Three weeks,” Prowl repeated with a weary smile.


	7. Countdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starting in the past and moving to the present, things just got even more complicated.

**_“Ratchet”_ **

Ten vorns ago:

“We’re gonna miss you,” Sideswipe said, uncharacteristic frown on his lips.

“You really want to do this?” Sunstreaker asked, looking worried.

Ratchet paused his packing to glance at what had become _his_ twins. He'd rescued them from certain death when they were younglings, spent a good chunk of his life raising them, and now they were guards to the elite of Iacon. He couldn't be prouder of them, and he also knew it was time to go someplace new that needed him.

“You two don't need me around anymore. Besides, expect lots of visits from me,” Ratchet replied.

“We’ll always need you. You're practically our creator,” Sunstreaker grumbled.

Ratchet pressed a hand to Sunstreaker’s chest “And a good creator knows when it's time to let go. You look after one another, and enjoy building your own lives together.”

Sideswipe hugged Ratchet from behind, smooshing his face against the back of his helm. “You better message us all the time and visit as much as you want.”

Sunstreaker hugged him from the front, and before Ratchet could do anything, he was trapped in a twin sandwich hug. He chuckled a little, but in truth it warmed his spark they cared so much for him.

After a moment they let go but lingered close.

“If you disappear, we’ll come find you. So make sure you stay in touch,” Sideswipe said.

“I promise I will,” Ratchet replied. “You are practically my creations, after all.”

…

Five Vorns ago:

“One rejection from this batch,” said Torque. “The rest will go to the medical center for training.”

Ratchet looked over the first page of stats for each Vector Sigma created medic out of the last round. They all formed the proper body modification through the processing of their frames after spark creation. He pulled up the deeper analysis of the rejected one on the datapad. Frowning he looked up at Torque. “This one shouldn't be rejected. He's got all the right modifications, his processor is actually more adaptable than the other two.”

“And he exhibited too much emotion during testing. Hesitated before answering life and death questions he'd be faced with in the medical center. I'm sorry, but the decision was already made,” Torque replied.

Ratchet gazed at the photo of the mech in the file. He was only a few weeks old, his fate decided. He'd end up having his spark extinguished just because he hesitated on a test. This wasn't right. But then much of what Ratchet had witnessed in Kaon wasn't right.

“I want him,” Ratchet said. “I want the rights to train him.”

“You'll be training with the others in the medical center. This mech will not be allowed to be trained there. How do you expect to do that?” Torque asked.

“I’ve got my clinic in Dead End. I'll train him there when I'm not at the center,” Ratchet replied. “I need the extra help anyway.”

With a dubious look, Torque narrowed his optics. “If I hand over his rights that means you're also responsible for housing and fueling him.”

“I raised a pair of twins in Iacon on limited rations. I can look after this mech,” Ratchet replied confidently. Then he leaned forward in his seat, sharpening his glare at Torque. “Either you hand him over to me, or I expose the spark extinguish program no one’s supposed to know about going on here in Kaon to some buddies of mine back in Iacon.”

Torque’s optics grew wide at the threat. “No need for threats.” He tapped the keys to his computer console, and then sighed. “He's now your ward.”

“Thanks,” Ratchet said, tossing the datapad on Torque’s desk, before walking out to retrieve the mech in question.

…

Seven weeks ago:

“You really think I'm ready?” First Aid asked, fingering his cup of energon.

“Definitely. If you can fix a mech impaled with a piece of metal through the chest like you did yesterday when I wasn't there, you can handle a bunch of miners digging for energon no problem,” Ratchet replied.

First Aid ducked his helm at the compliment.

“Going on this expedition will establish you as medic with a record of service outside my clinic. It means you can apply to work in the medical center and get paid a decent wage,” Ratchet explained.

“I know. The wildlands are dangerous, aren't they? I'm worried something bad might happen. Something I can't fix.” First Aid frowned.

Ratchet put a hand on his shoulder. “You're smart, got some of the best instincts I've seen on a Vector Sigma sparked mech, especially for your young age. Even if you run into trouble, I've got no doubt you can handle it.” Ratchet paused a moment, then squeezed his shoulder slightly. “But if something does happen that threatens your life, you do what it takes to survive. Understand?”

First Aid nodded firmly. “I understand.”

…

Three weeks ago:

Ratchet’s tank churned. Pictures sent back from the small investigation team of the destroyed expedition camp showed pools of dried energon everywhere. He'd sent First Aid to his possible death. “I didn't know,” he whispered.

Closely examining the images of the medical trailer, he paused. Zooming in, he saw the locked cabinet opened but not by force. He scrolled around the images also seeing medical supplies were missing, clamps being the most telling item. Only a medic or someone trained in field repair would know how to use them…

“You're still out there, aren't you?”

Ratchet quickly opened up a message box on the screen, composing an urgent message to the only mechs he trusted to help him search the wildlands for First Aid.

“Alive or dead, I'm coming to get you, Aid.”

…

 

 **_“Mirage”_**  

Four and a half weeks ago:

“Record your findings and return immediately. We need to make a full assessment of the situation.” The head of expedition operations looked at each of the three chosen. “I'm equipping you each with a program designed to learn the languages of the wildland savages and translate for you. It _should_ work. It's been tested on a few wildland mechs we've brought back here. I need to know what happened out there.”

“Yes, sir,” they all replied.

“Be on your guard out there.”

Mirage wasn't worried. He had one of the very best modifications available only to those from his elite sparkline: an invisibility cloak.

…

Three and half weeks ago:

Their small team made good time moving across the wildland terrain. They each had thicker tires installed for their alt modes lined with small prickly spikes to give them traction no matter what they drove through.

“I see the trailers in the distance!” Starblaster yelled as they drove at top speed.

Mirage scanned ahead but picked up no signs of life. That wasn't a good sign. Arriving on the scene, they transformed and inspected the area.

“Spilt energon everywhere but no mechs in sight. This is weird,” said Fast Track.

“Let's just take our pictures and get the uplink set up to report back,” Mirage replied.

This place made him feel uneasy. He kept a sharp optic on the horizon, feeling as if they were being watched. He set up his scans to sweep continuously as he worked to get the uplink module setup while the other two took pictures to send back.

Starblaster jogged over. “No one’s here. I snapped pics of everything I could.” He held out the camera.

Mirage took it and plugged it into the uplink. He loaded the images and sent them. It would take a while to bounce off the old satellites still orbiting the planet. “Get your pics, Fast Track?” Mirage called out.

No reply.

Mirage pointed his scans toward the askew trailers, and nothing registered. “Where is he?”

Starblaster frowned. “Fast Track! Where'd you go?”

Still no answer.

Starblaster called out and started toward the trailers. Mirage stayed where he was. His scans showing only his and Starblaster’s heat signatures. Something was definitely wrong.

Yelling to their far left, drew their attention. A purple and black flying savage had Fast Track in his grasp, flying overhead. No wonder his scans picked nothing up, he wasn't scanning above them.

Mirage instantly initiated his invisibility cloak.

In the moment it took to shimmer out of view and start running away, Starblaster was swept up by another flying mech, blue and black in color.

Mirage transformed and sped away as fast as his wheels could take him. His spark was pulsing hard. He didn't want to die out here.

Unfortunately, his direction of escape took him into a particularly thick layer or rust all over the ground. Invisibility cloak or not, the dust kicked up into the air behind him, signaling his location, and worse yet, it stuck all over his plating, rendering his cloak useless.

The roar of an engine from a flyer overhead told him he was not going to escape.

He initiated his breaks and cut his fuel, tail spinning in a different direction. The dust kicked up helped hide where exactly he was but he knew there was a time limit on his game of hide and seek in the cloud of rust. He continued to make semi-circles, breaking and switching direction until he felt hands wrap around his rear spoiler.

“Frag,” Mirage hissed.

He transformed in his captor’s grasp, feet being held firmly by the blue and black flying savage. Mirage kicked but it was useless. He had no weapon on him, and now his cloak was useless. He shimmered back into view, covered head to toe in dust.

A third flying mech in bright colors appeared and the two talked quickly. The translation program worked faster than he expected. Words were already being fed to his processor as it deciphered what they said: bind hands and feet, take back, pretty…

Mirage felt his tank churn. This was not how a spark-born elite should meet his end.

…

Mirage and the others from his team were bound and flown to a large camp. The mechs missing from the expedition were all here plus many more, all locked in large cages.

They were carted to a large central tent then deposited at very large, terrifying-looking silver mech’s feet.

The silver mech spoke in praising tones to the three fliers that caught them. He bent down and pet Starblaster’s white plating, wiping at the rust coating him and murmuring what translated as “I'm taking this one”.

The flier in multiple colors asked if he could have one, but the silver mech refused. He ordered them put Mirage and Fast Track in a cage together.

Mirage was impressed with the software already clearly determining phrases and partial sentences now.

The blue and black flier mentioned Mirage’s special skill, and the silver mech sharpened his gaze on him, while holding Starblaster against his side. “An electromagnetic collar will tame him.”

The multi colored flier barked at the blue and black one. “Collar him then deposit him in the cage.”

…

A week ago:

Mirage had been locked in a metal cage with Fast Track at first. But eventually these savage mechs learned they could understand and speak their language. Fast Track was dragged out kicking and yelling about a week ago, and Mirage hadn't seen him since.

He lightly dozed, leaned up against the metal bars of his cage. His tank was under-fueled and having a hard time breaking down the small chunks of raw energon they tossed his way once in a while.

“He's the last one that can speak all tongues,” a flier said walking toward the cage.

Mirage lit his optics at that, watching the mech approach.

“Then don't frag up and lose him like the other team did with the black one,” a dark blue flier with a pointy head said.

Too weak to fight, and hoping for a chance at escape, Mirage didn't protest when he was pulled out of the cage.

“We’re going on a little trip. You translate my orders, understood?” The white pointy headed flier explained while looping a chain through the heavy disk collar around Mirage’s neck.

He nodded. “Understood.”

…

 

**_“Ironhide, Bluestreak, and Trailbreaker”_ **

Now:

“This place is beautiful…” Bluestreak murmured.

Trailbreaker smiled, enjoying how much Bluestreak was enjoying his first mission. “We should head to the northern end. Don't want to over harvest this area.”

“Lead the way,” Ironhide replied.

They walked through the crystal forest, glittering and reflecting the midday light every direction. Reaching the area just beyond where he'd harvested with Jazz and Hound, Trailbreaker showed Bluestreak how to safely remove crystals without harming the growth.

They spent most of the morning filling their pouches and as the afternoon set in, they took a break to refuel.

“You hear that?” Bluestreak asked, mouthful of half-chewed energon garbling his words.

They all swallowed and stilled, listening.

In the distance there was yelling and the sounds of several footsteps.

“Sounds are coming from the edge of rust sea just north.” Ironhide stowed his energon and got to his feet. “Let's do a lil’ spying.”

Trailbreaker frowned at that, but got to feet when Bluestreak did.

They quietly made their way toward the edge of the forest, and ducked down behind a large deep purple crystal.

Ironhide peered around its edge and reported what he saw. “Three mechs tied together by the waists. One with a weird thing on his neck being pulled by another tie. Two Vosian Decepticreeps. Those stupid conehead kind.”

In the distance they heard what was being yelled more clearly:

“Tell them to stop dragging their feet!”

“If you let us rest for a breem or so, we wouldn't be so tired.”

A strangled yep when the tie was yanked.

“Tell them or I'll humiliate you in front of all everyone.”

A beat of silence was followed by the mech in the heavy collar speaking in another language.

Trailbreaker poked Ironhide and whispered. “That's the language the healer uses.”

“So he's a linguist?” Ironhide grinned. “This forest is blessed by Primus himself. Let's go steal him.”

“What?” Trailbreaker asked in shock at the suggestion. “There's two flying Vosian Decepticons plus four more mechs!”

“Three are bound together, and we only want the one anyway. We’re taking him,” Ironhide said without room for argument.

Bluestreak smiled brightly at that, lifting up a cloth he’d had around his shoulders to reveal his bow and quiver of metal arrows. “I was hoping I’d get to try this for real!”

“Alright, but we need a solid plan,” Trailbreaker said after a moment.

“Knock out the two morons. What more of a plan do you want?” Ironhide asked, annoyed by Trailbreaker trying to be cautious.

“How about you and me approach them from behind, and Blue shoots at them from a safe distance.” Trailbreaker looked at Bluestreak. “Stick as many arrows as you can in their wings. It’ll make it harder for them to fly.” He then glanced back at Ironhide. “Sound good?”

“Yeah, keep the kid safe. Let’s do it.” Ironhide pulled his large sword from its sheath on his back.

“I’m not a kid,” Bluestreak muttered.

“And if anything happens to you, Prowl’ll have me and Trailbreaker here stripped of our armor. You stay back, let us big bots take the hits, and do your thing,” Ironhide said with finality. He locked gazes with Trailbreaker. “Ready?”

Trailbreaker unhooked his large metal club from his hip armor. “Ready.”

They moved out from behind the crystal, walking toward the group that had their backs to them as they continued trudging through the edge of the rust sea. They walked slowly. Deliberately picking each step to be silent as they approached, while keeping their bodies in a lowered stance. A “hunting” maneuver as they’d been taught in combat training when they were younger.

When they were less than ten paces away an arrow sliced through the air past them, landing square in the middle of the white conehead flier’s left wing. The flier yelped. His comrade stopped the whole group, to see what wrong when another arrow ran his right wing through.

The mech at the back of the three chained looked over at Ironhide and Trailbreaker and then said something.

Everyone turned.

Ironhide smiled.

Trailbreaker straightened back up.

The fight was on.

Trailbreaker swung his club at the first flier who threw himself in his direction. The sickening sound of metal making hard contact with metal filled the air. He landed his blow right across the mech’s torso, dropping him to the ground like a stone.

Ironhide thrust his sword at the other one who dodged it and danced back a few steps to buy himself enough time to pull out his own sword. They moved in agile in semi circles, swords clinking as Ironhide pushed him away from the rest of the group.

The dust of the rust covered ground kicked up into the air, creating a red cloud they fought through. Despite the visual obstruction, more arrows flew each hitting their marks. Soon the mech Trailbreaker fought looked like almost like a wilderness creature, covered in metal arrows all over his wings and back. Trailbreaker used his club to block the flier’s sword, then head butt him so hard he stumbled back. He then swung his club, hitting the side of his prey’s head and knocking him unconscious.

Seeing his comrade injured, the other conehead flier shoved at Ironhide, and ran over, scooping up the offlined mech and taking to the air. His trajectory was crooked from all the arrows in his wings, but he managed to retreat into the distance.

The dust began to settle and Bluestreak jogged up. “How did I do?”

Ironhide laughed. “Great, kid. We got us a lingui--”

One of the tied up mechs jumped Ironhide from behind, pulling the other two with him. One looked annoyed the other looked like he wanted to beat this mech as bad as the one that jumped him.

Trailbreaker used his club to shove at the mechs, and Bluestreak grabbed Ironhide by the arms, pulling him out from under them.

“Stop! We don’t want to harm you!” Trailbreaker yelled, barely holding the two mechs who were trying to fight them back with the butt end of his club. Tired of the struggle, he threw his hand up and erected a forcefield around himself and his team.

Off to the side, the mech in the strange-looking collar stood watching the whole interaction, not looking the least bit impressed by either side.

“You’re a linguist! Tell them we mean no harm!” Trailbreaker pleaded.

“And why would I do that?” the mech asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because, we’ll offer all of you sanctuary. No one is turned away from our home if they are in need,” Trailbreaker replied.

“Besides you all look like you could use some fuel and rest. Why waste what little energy you do have?” Bluestreak asked, helping Ironhide to feet.

The two larger tied up mechs who attacked them growled and ranted as they looked at the collared mech. The third one grumbled, looking none-too-happy about being jostled around so much by the other two. The collared mech sighed then replied to them in their language.

Whatever he said calmed them and the smaller one finally spoke up.

“He says to remove the chains tying them first, then we can talk,” the collared mech translated.

“I can do that,” Trailbreaker replied. He reached into the pocket of his armor, pulling out an awl he used to help him sculpt his wire and held it up to show them.

The smaller one said something.

“He says the other two ‘idiots’ won’t attack you,” the collared mech translated.

“And him?” Trailbreaker asked.

“Oh please, he’s harmless. Medics would never hurt anyone, that’s why he brought those two lunks along,” the collared mech replied.

“What’s a med-nic?” Trailbreaker asked, tripping on the unknown word.

“Right, you are wildlands mechs... He does magical things with his hands and poof you’re all better,” the collared mech replied in a mocking tone.

“Are you makin’ fun of us?” Ironhide asked, stepping to the edge of the forcefield.

Scoffing at Ironhide, he didn’t answer the question.“The longer we all stand here, the more likely the two flying morons will come back with reinforcements. How about we hurry this all up?” the collared mech replied. He walked over, nearly tripping on his own feet and held out his hand to take the awl. “Give it here. I’ll unchain them.”

The wobble in his gait was something Trailbreaker had seen before. Fuel-starved mechs often lost the ability to control their arms and legs as the damage from starvation took greater and greater tolls on their bodies. Despite the fire in this mech’s words and attitude, he was _very_ ill. Trailbreaker dropped the field and handed the awl over.

Ironhide growled. “You betray us, I’ll cut all of you into pieces.”

“Not very friendly of you,” the collared mech replied. He struggled with the awl, trying to pop the catch on a handcuffs.

The smaller one murmured something worriedly at the collared one.

Bluestreak bravely stepped forward, and took the awl from the shaking hands of the collared mech. He smiled at him, then with a quick twist, popped the locks open without any trouble. The chains dropped to the ground and Bluestreak helped the three remove everything that had bound them.

At the same time, Trailbreaker gently un-looped the chain around the thick collar and removed it.

“Could you get this awful piece of jewelry off, too?” the collared mech asked. “It’s not a good look for me.”

Trailbreaker sadly smiled. “It’s too thick to pry off with my small awl. But I have something bigger I could use to get it off in my workshop.”

“Guess that means I’m going home with you. What a prize you three have claimed, hm?” the collared mech said, though there was more despair in his voice than mocking.

“What’s your name?” Trailbreaker asked.

“Mirage. And yours?”

“I’m Trailbreaker. This is Ironhide and that’s Bluestreak,” he said pointing to the others.

“Most just call me Blue,” Bluestreak chimed in.

“And these three? Could you ask ‘em what their names are?” Ironhide asked, his gruffness having softened after seeing the bad shape Mirage was truly in.

Mirage pointed to the tall red one. “Sideswipe.” Then to the yellow one next to him. “Sunstreaker.” And finally to the smaller of the three. “Ratchet.”

Trailbreaker’s head spun quickly, looking at Ratchet. “You’re _Ratchet?_ The _Ratchet_ that knows First Aid?”

The mech’s optics brightened as he spoke. The other two also looked happily surprised to hear First Aid’s name.

“He’s asking you how you know that name,” Mirage translated.

“First Aid is our new healer,” Trailbreaker replied.

Mirage translated.

Ratchet stepped forward, gaze sharp on Trailbreaker as he spoke in a low, steady tone.

“He says take him—“ Mirage paused, optics flickering. “Take him to First Aid.” His voice was suddenly filled with static and his optics went black before he crumpled to the ground unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely, thoughtful comments! They keep me going!


	8. Nightfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day wanes and night falls for everyone.

Ironhide scooped up Mirage, and started walking toward the crystal forest in the near distance.

“Should he be moved like that?” Sideswipe asked, concerned.

Trailbreaker and Bluestreak both waved at them to follow.

“It's more important we find a covered location than whether jostling Mirage will cause more damage. Let's go,” Ratchet replied.

They all proceeded into the crystal forest, walking for a good hour or so until they reached some very dense natural growing crystals.

“I had no idea crystals came in so many colors or had this sorta hum to them,” Sideswipe commented, looking all around.

“The hum is weird. Is that normal?” Sunstreaker asked, frowning.

“They resonate at different frequencies,” Ratchet explained.

Ironhide ducked under and around a particularly gnarled crystal with Mirage in his grip. The other two barbarian mechs followed. The small one, Bluestreak, moved with amazing agility so his sensor panels would not to scrape up against the growth. The twins gestured for Ratchet to go first, and he contorted and wriggled his way through. Coming out on the other side, he couldn't help but stare up and all around. They were inside a grove of crystals that grew together leaving a large open patch between them and had latticed together overhead to form a glittery roof.

“Wow,” Sideswipe said and he stepped inside.

Sunstreaker’s mouth gaped in awe as he looked up at the “roof”.

Ironhide carefully laid Mirage down. He said something, and Trailbreaker and Bluestreak nodded before they unhooked pieces from their external armor.

Ratchet squatted down beside Mirage. He needed energon but the raw form would be much to hard to break down in his current state. Pondering what he could do, he considered taking donations of processed fuel from each of them to siphon into Mirage’s tank.

“What in the name of Primus are they doing?” Sunstreaker asked.

Looking up, Ratchet frowned. “No fragging clue.”

Folding a piece of armor, Bluestreak made a metal bowl shape. Trailbreaker picked through bags of crystals pulling out ones of opposing colors. Bluestreak scooped up the small pile Trailbreaker made and placed it in the bowl shape. Trailbreaker handed him a glass dome, which he set over the pile of crystals, and they immediately began to glow brightly.

Ironhide unhooked a small, flattish bowl shape item from his own armor and handed it to Trailbreaker. Carefully holding it over the glass dome, Trailbreaker said something to Bluestreak who broke off small bits of raw energon and placed them in the odd bowl he held.

After a moment, the energon began to break down into liquid from being held over the bright crystals which were emitting heat.

“Holy slag, they're refining energon?” Sideswipe asked.

“Not exactly. They're using heat to break it down. No additives, no fillers to extend the fuel like back home. Just pure energon in _liquid_ form.” Ratchet was impressed, and transformed his fingertips, prying off the plating over Mirage’s fuel conversion unit.

Trailbreaker moved over to Mirage and Ratchet, holding the bowl out in offering and speaking in his language.

Ironhide grumbled at Trailbreaker, but he ignored him, repeating whatever he said to Ratchet.

“Got no clue what you're trying to tell me but let's get that fuel into his tank.” Ratchet pried the bottom of Mirage's intake tube free from the conversion unit. He scooped up Mirage and held against his chest in a sort of sitting position and pointed to the opening. “Pour it in there.”

Trailbreaker seemed to understand, but looked apprehensive. Tipping the bowl up, he dribbled the liquid fuel into the tank. It was enough to fill it about a third. Ratchet wished it was more, but that should do. He pushed the tube back in place with a small snap.

“Nothing is happening,” Sunstreaker said with a deep frown. “Isn't his tank supposed to start up processing the fuel?”

Ratchet frowned. “He might be too damaged.”

“So what, we just sit here and watch him _die_?” Sideswipe asked with overly bright optics.

Trailbreaker ran a finger through the residue in the bowl and pointed to Mirage’s lips, saying something.

“Think he wants you to open his mouth,” Sunstreaker said.

Ratchet thought it was silly to put a bit of fuel in Mirage’s mouth, but Trailbreaker was being insistent. He relented, and gently squeezed the sides of Mirage’s jaw, forcing it open. Trailbreaker smeared the liquid across Mirage’s glossa. Ratchet let go, and his mouth snapped back closed.

To Ratchet’s surprise, Mirage stirred, swallowing the taste of fuel. He pressed his hand to the exposed fuel conversion unit and it began to vibrate. “Holy slag. It worked.”

“He's gonna be okay?” Sideswipe asked.

“Dunno. The damages could be extensive. We’re out in the wilderness and he's an elite build. His systems are delicate compared to us.” Ratchet carefully extracted himself, laying Mirage on the ground.

Bluestreak started chattering, Ironhide replying now and again.

Suddenly, Mirage’s frame started to shiver.

“Frag.” Ratchet worked quickly to replace the missing piece of armor he'd removed. “He needs to be kept warm. Otherwise we will lose him.”

Trailbreaker sat down and gently lifted Mirage up by his shoulders, wrapping him up in his arms and holding him against his chest to warm him. As soon as he did, Mirage’s body grew still again.

Sunstreaker shot Ratchet a side glance. “How'd he know what you said?”

“Don't think he did. They've probably seen energon starvation before,” Ratchet replied.

Ironhide sighed and spoke as if handing out orders. Bluestreak and Trailbreaker both nodded. Bluestreak lifted the dome, and it grew darker around them.

“It's almost night already,” Sideswipe commented with a tired sigh as he picked at the uncomfortable rubber soles their captors put on their feet.

Bluestreak took out some of the crystals, leaving just one, and recovered it with the dome again. It was much dimmer, but gave off enough light to illuminate the immediate area. He then offered pieces of his raw energon to the twins, shyly fluttering his sensor panels when they took the pieces and thanked him. Ironhide gave Ratchet a piece of his raw energon, which he gratefully took and they all grew quiet, chewing their fuel.

Ratchet glanced at Trailbreaker who was the only one not having any energon, both hands occupied by holding Mirage. After a moment, Ironhide broke off a piece of his and hand fed Trailbreaker. Bluestreak said something and started laughing. Ironhide frowned at the young mech and a Trailbreaker smiled, but repressed laughing at whatever Bluestreak said.

If these mechs were the ones that found First Aid, Ratchet had high hopes he was being well cared for. He looked at Mirage now huddled in Trailbreaker’s hold, hoping he'd hold on long enough to recover.

…

First Aid continued to read through Alpha Trion’s journals, discovering they weren't exactly kept in chronological order. He'd finally found the set entries surrounding Optimus’ origin.

_In the ravine, near the bottom one of the scouts spotted his red plating. I'm no longer as spry as I once was, and we had to wait for some of the others to arrive before attempting to rescue him._

_Once they brought him to level ground I looked him over. Almost all of his plating was marred with an injury or one type or another. Some areas of his frame were completely missing outer plating, exposing his protoform beneath to the elements. The chances of his survival out here are almost zero._

_We brought him back to camp, and I tended to him as best I could without proper medical facilities. Despite his grave injuries, his spark continued to pulse brightly in its chamber. I feel I have to keep trying to repair him to my best of abilities so long as he continues to cling to life._

_Today marks his fifth day with us, still unconscious. I fear he may never wake._

“Me, too,” First Aid murmured at the datapad.

“First Aid?”

He perked up at hearing his name called from the front area. Sliding off the berth, he peeked around the edge of the doorway, seeing Hound and Jazz had returned, standing in the main doorway.

“I got great news!” Jazz said.

Jazz’s words were still garbled by the translation program, but understood ‘great news’, and smiled at that, hopeful. Stepping out, he waved at them and walked closer.

“Jazz convinced Prowl to unlock the door. You can wander around our encampment, but you'll have to be with me or Jazz at all times,” Hound explained.

First Aid was glad he'd no longer be confined, but it was a long way from freedom and being able to return to Kaon. He forced a small smile and nodded. “Krowka.”

“Wanna tour?” Jazz asked.

The translation program wasn't able to decipher what he said, and First Aid shook his head in confusion. He wished the program was more adaptive, but he was stuck with it as it was.

“He asked if you would be interested in coming with us and we’ll show you around,” Hound repeated trying to clarify.

First Aid nodded excitedly at that.

“Let's go,” Hound said with a huge smile.

…

They'd walked First Aid through all of the encampment. He'd seen the loom rooms, the training areas, the workshop Trailbreaker used, the play area for the sparklings as well as where they were schooled. First Aid was impressed. It was an entire working city completely hidden away.

By listening to both Hound and Jazz talk for a couple hours while they walked around, the translation program started to finally give him words to reply with. But the grammar and syntax were still slowly building. Too shy to try to reply with one or two word answers, he'd remained quiet, replying with body language as best he could.

“Well, I gotta a thing I need to take care of. You good with keepin’ watch?” Jazz asked Hound.

“Yeah, of course.” Hound looked at First Aid, smiling. “Want to see my quarters? It isn't too glamorous but it's cozy.”

First Aid nodded.

They parted ways from Jazz, heading up the main curved walkway. About halfway up Hound lifted a thick cloth covering the doorway to his room.

“After you,” Hound said, gesturing for First Aid to go in first.

Entering the small room, he couldn't see much. It was dark. Hound snapped the cover for the crystal light closed, and the space was quickly bathed in a warm light. First Aid stared at the light for a moment fascinated by the strange tech surrounding the crystals.

“So I'm kinda the map maker around here.” Hound pointed to the wall covered in thin sheets of metal that were carefully marked with shapes and what looked like lettering, though it wasn't Cybertron. “We’re here right now.” He pressed a finger to a set of triangles.

First Aid looked at the map, trying to identify the areas he'd been in relation to the triangles.

“This is the Rust Sea. It's pretty big.” Hound ran his finger around the edges of it. “And this little spot here is the crystal forest where we met.”

This map looked remarkably like the crude one in Alpha Trion’s room. “Kaon.” He pressed a finger to a set of rectangles in a similar location to the other map. “Like Alpha Trion draw.”

Hound glanced at First Aid. “Whoa. You spoke our language.”

“Little,” First Aid replied, face heating with embarrassment at how silly he sounded.

“A little can go a long way,” Hound replied with a smile. “And yeah. I started this map based on that one he scrawled on the wall down in the healing cavern. Me and Grapple work on this one, refining it according to data from each of our missions.”

Studying the marked features, First Aid frowned a little. “Missing Iacon. And, this?” He pointed to a set of rectangles far south. He wasn't aware of another surviving city after the cataclysm.

“I-a-con? Where's that?” Hound asked.

“Here.” First Aid touched the area north and west of the spot where Kaon was.

Hound went to a side table, taking out a set of marking pens. He returned and started to mark the area. “A big place like where you're from?”

First Aid nodded. “Same. Uh-” he waited for the program to translate ‘sister city’ but it didn't have an equivalent term. “Twin place.” He frowned, not thrilled with the description but hoping it was enough.

“Interesting!” Hound made the scale of his markings the same as Kaon’s.

Distracted by the other city marked, First Aid touched it again. “Where?”

Hound paused, looking at what he was pointing to. “Alpha Trion said that's called the Crystal City. He told us about it when we were sparklings. Apparently it was once one of the most beautiful cities on Cybertron but just before the planet change, all the mechs that lived there left and went into the sky beyond. But because no one was there when the change happened, the city remained just as they left it.”

“See? Your optics?” First Aid asked.

“No, I've never seen it. No one has. It's a month’s travel south and we never roamed that far when we were nomadic.” Hound then touched an area on his map that looked like a pond. “It's been so long since we moved around. I like it here, it's safe and stable. But I miss the sky.”

First Aid sadly frowned. Those Vosian Decepticons had really altered their lives.

“You know, if you're lonely down in the cavern, you could stay here if you wanted.” Hound pointed to what looked like a second area of berth bedding. “I have an extra space set up for recharging.”

Curious, First Aid canted his head. “For?”

“Well, Blue used to stay here with me before his upgrades to being a full adult. He didn't have creators and we all took turns caring for him. I should've picked up the bedding, but I dunno. I just didn't. Anyway, you can stay with me if you rather not be alone.” Hound shyly smiled.

First Aid had a room to himself in Ratchet’s apartment. He'd never shared one before. But the healing cavern was so far away from everything and everyone. “I stay.” He nodded and smiled.

“I promised to look after you. So if you need anything. Just ask, okay?” Hound replied.

First Aid firmly nodded.

…

Prowl had been reading his creator’s journals again. Ever since he'd agreed to bond to Jazz, he couldn't stop thinking about them.

He was sitting in the middle of his nest of pillows and blankets in his berth room when voices drew his attention. Getting to his feet, he moved to the doorway, watching Smokescreen at the front doorway with the covering lifted slightly.

“No, Jazz. It'll invalidate the ritual. You wanna wait another year before you can try again?”

“He _needs_ rest. You said so yourself. You gotta let me just recharge near him. I won't touch!”

“ _No_. Look, if you're that worried _I'll_ go lay down with him. See if that helps.”

A long pause. “Yeah, okay. Maybe that would help. He's a mess. I think a good night’s rest would do a world of good.”

“I agree.”

Prowl quickly returned to the berth, trying to look as if he hadn't moved.

Smokescreen appeared in the doorway a moment later. “You're still up reading those things?”

“I am.” Prowl glanced up at Smokescreen. “What did Jazz want?”

Smokescreen quickly lowered his sensor panels. “You got super sonic hearing or something?”

“Of course not.” Prowl frowned.

“He wanted to invalidate your ritual by recharging in here with you.” Smokescreen sighed. “Told him no way. But I said I'd stay with you. See if that might help you get some rest.”

Prowl stared down at the journal in his lap. “You've been extremely diligent regarding the steps for our bonding ritual.” He then looked back up at Smokescreen. “I'm honestly surprised.”

“Why?” Smokescreen asked.

Prowl held Smokescreen’s gaze. “Because I know you're the one he cheated on me with.”

Smokescreen’s sensor panels flattened against his back and he stared at Prowl with bright optics. “How did you know? I thought he never told you? That you said you didn't want to know?”

“I saw how you were around him before and then how you were around him after.” Prowl frowned. “So why is it you seem to care so much about making sure we follow the ritual rules so closely?”

Smokescreen heavily sighed. “Guilt?” He offered, shrugging his sensor panels. “He loves you. He's _always_ loved you. Even when we were small. It was like you two were predestined to be together and it made me mad.”

Confused, Prowl canted his head slightly. “Why in the world would you be angry about that?”

“I dunno. Maybe I liked him? He never even looked in any direction other than yours. I just wanted to…” Smokescreen frowned. “Know what it was like to kiss him. Then everything went too far.”

Prowl set the datapad in his lap aside. He then pat the open area on the berth. “We should both rest.”

Dumbstruck, Smokescreen’s mouth gaped as he stared at Prowl. “ _What?_ I spill my guts to you and you have nothing to say back? Other than ‘lay down’?”

Prowl made himself comfortable in his berth, lying on his side facing Smokescreen. “I forgave Jazz vorns ago. I refuse to hold onto past hurts. Especially if I'm about to commit my spark to his for eternity. And now I understand why you've been strict with the ritual rules.”

“You're so weird.” Smokescreen lowered himself down and crawled into the berth.

“It's weird to forgive?” Prowl asked, teasing a little.

“Jazz is still mad at me. I thought you would be worse.” Smokescreen curled up on his side, facing Prowl, but at a respectable distance from him.

“Is he?” Prowl pondered it for a moment. Jazz had confessed to the one night stand the next morning, enriched energon having played a part in the lowering of his inhibitions. At the time, Prowl told Jazz he needed space and time to figure out if he'd forgive him. In the end, he decided to forgive and let it go, in favor of how strongly he felt for Jazz. “I'm sorry the incident caused so much strife between you.”

“I don't blame him for being upset. I almost messed up something really important.” Smokescreen dimmed his optics. “Thanks for being so understanding, though.”

“I know I was the only mech he'd been with. I suppose a part of me expected him to stray out of curiosity,” Prowl replied.

With a look of awe, Smokescreen stared at Prowl. “I hope one day I meet someone I love as much as you two love one another.”

Prowl’s faceplates heated, he felt mildly embarrassed. “I'm very lucky.”

“Okay. Confession time over. Turn off that light over there. You need rest,” Smokescreen replied with a small smile.

Prowl chuckled as he reached over to the small table and lifted the glass dome. The light dimmed until it was dark.

Lying back down, he gazed at Smokescreen in the darkness, their optics still dimly illuminating the room. After a moment, Smokescreen's optics flickered off, his body relaxing. Prowl felt so much pressure bearing down on him. Relaxing was almost impossible.

The thought of Jazz asking to invalidate their ritual just to help him get some much needed rest made his spark flutter, though. He'd loved Jazz since before he truly knew what that meant. For him, he'd attempt to recharge. Optics darkened, he tried to let go of all the responsibilities on his shoulders, and filled his mind with thoughts of Jazz instead. The way he sang, the mischievous smile he often wore, the way it felt to be wrapped around one another after overloading. Eventually his thoughts started to feel scattered, and he felt a warmth radiating inside his spark for the mech he loved. Before even realizing it, Prowl finally drifted off.

…

Hound was already deeply recharging. The room was dark save for the light of First Aid’s visor. He stared up at the map on the wall that he could just make out from the dim light his visor cast. Trailbreaker had been gone for two days now. He hoped he was okay out there. Afterall, last time he’d been stabbed right in the fuel pump.

Focusing on the small area where Hound drew the crystal forest, he quietly vented air. Everything had changed so much in the course of only a few weeks. By now he’d expected they would be packing up the expedition and preparing to return to Kaon. Not lying on a nest of blankets and pillows in a room with a mech who spoke a completely different language. And certainly not fretting over the well-being of a mech he hardly knew. Yet… First Aid huffed. He had such an unsettled, strange feeling permeating his spark every time he thought about Trailbreaker.

Ratchet warned him he should avoid getting close to anyone on his trip. But he’d also been vague about what that meant, other than his one blunt statement about no interfacing with anyone on the expedition. First Aid understood the mechanics of it, the reason behind mechs liking it, but it was all just information he’d read up on. No different in his mind than learning about the varying physiologies for each type of mech build. He hadn’t even used his interface equipment before. But that’s not what was stirring inside him when he thought about Trailbreaker. It was his spark. It felt funny and unsure around him but also excited and happy to see him. Emotions he was not at all used to feeling. Primus, he wished Ratchet was here to ask about these things.

Rolling to a side, he forced his optics off. Thinking too much was giving him a touch of a processor-ache. “Stay safe out there, I want to see you again,” he said in barely a whisper to a Trailbreaker unable to hear him. He curled up in a tight ball in the berth and sighed.

 


	9. Steeped

Grumbling at the soft chatting that roused him from a much needed deep recharge, Ratchet lit his optics.

The twins were predictably snuggled together, and just beyond them he saw Bluestreak staring at them while quietly talking to Ironhide. Right, the wildland mechs had probably never seen a set of adult twins before. They were rare in the city, requiring special medical attention when they were separated from their creator’s spark. No way a set would survive out here. And these mechs would have no idea that twins were partners for life in _every_ aspect.

Ratchet sat up, and Bluestreak quieted. Looking over at Ironhide, he saw that Ironhide sat himself back to back with Trailbreaker to help support his sitting position while he recharged with Mirage wrapped up in his grasp. Gaze shifting to the slender-build elite, Ratchet wondered just how extensive the damages were. Starvation in any mech led to all kinds of issues, but in a delicate build like Mirage’s he worried even more.

At Ironhide's prompt, Bluestreak tapped Trailbreaker’s shoulder to wake him.

Ratchet figured they all needed to wake up, so he gently thwacked the top of each twin’s heads. “Time to get up.”

Sideswipe grumbled and swatted at Ratchet, missing. “I ache all over. Just a lil’ more rest…”

“We need to get moving. Get your oversized aft up and wake Sunny.” Ratchet scooted over to Trailbreaker and Mirage. He pressed his hand to Mirage’s front, over his conversion tank, then followed it downward to his fuel pump. Trailbreaker watched, unsure but clearly trusting the medic as he groped Mirage.

Mirage twisted away from Ratchet, and grumbled. “Just cause you bought me a drink doesn't mean you can be so handsy…” He lit his optics and then froze. Turning his head, he looked up into Trailbreaker’s smiling face. “What the frag is going on?” He asked before looking to Ratchet who was still touching him for answers.

“You almost died. Trailbreaker here held you overnight to keep you warm so your systems would have a chance at recovery,” Ratchet explained.

Trailbreaker asked something in his language.

Mirage weakly tried to push out of the larger mech’s grasp, replying to him in his language.

Ironhide got to his feet, attaching all his extra external armor in place while barking what sounded like orders. Bluestreak was on his feet as soon as a Ironhide spoke.

“What did he say?” Ratchet asked Mirage.

“We need to get going. Staying here isn't safe and it'll take all day and possibly into the night to get to the next safe location.” Mirage tried to stand, but he was too weak, dropping to his knees on the ground.

The twins started to move in to help him, but Trailbreaker beat them to it, going down on one knee with his back to Mirage encouraging him to climb up.

Mirage protested in their language.

Ratchet thwacked Mirage on the back of the head. “Don't be ungrateful. If he's offering, take him up on it. You're in no shape to walk.”

Sideswipe snickered and Bluestreak stared with bright optics.

“I'm from one of the elite sparklines of Iacon! How dare you hit me!” Mirage retorted.

Sunstreaker was already annoyed at the delay, and swooped in, lifting Mirage from under his arms and up onto Trailbreaker’s back. “Be glad he only hit you with his hand.”

“Look, out here your sparkline is nothing more than a liability. You're lucky to be alive, and in no small part due to these wildland mechs. We go _where_ they want us to _when_ they want us to _how_ they want,” Ratchet replied in a stern tone.

Trailbreaker stood with Mirage clinging to his back. He said something in a cheerful tone, and then turned to weave his way out of the grove with his extra cargo.

“You're berthside manner is atrocious,” Mirage huffed, but relented, holding tightly to Trailbreaker’s shoulders.

Ironhide gestured for the others to go, and they all followed Trailbreaker and Mirage out into the main forest.

Ratchet softly sighed which led to a short coughing fit as they began to walk. His body was tired. Not only from all the travel, but he wasn't in very good shape these days, his intakes wheezing now and again from years of breathing the polluted air of Kaon. The twins fell in step, one on each side of him, ready to offer aid if he needed it. The coughing subsided and He smiled a little at how protective they were of him. At least he hadn't failed them. Dimming his optics, he felt the sting of failure to do the same for First Aid.

…

Smokescreen woke first. He gazed at Prowl curled up still recharging and smiled. This had to be the first decent amount of rest he'd gotten in a good long while. He quietly and carefully got up, slipping out of the berthroom. His tank was empty, and a check of Prowl’s container where he kept his energon proved disappointing. “Empty?” He murmured. He'd have to go down and harvest some more.

Replacing the lid, he tucked the container under his arm and lifted the doorway covering to step out. Pausing mid step, he frowned at the sight of Jazz propped up against the wall, head drooped forward as he recharged in a seated position just beside the entryway.

“What the frag?” Smokescreen hissed in a whisper.

Poking at Jazz, Smokescreen scowled. Bad enough Prowl was depriving himself of rest, now Jazz was, too? Primus, these two were ridiculous.

Jazz groaned, visor lighting up from his optics. “Smokes?”

“Were you out here all night?” Smokescreen asked in a hushed voice.

“Yeah.” Jazz stretched his arms outward and rolled his head side to side to unkink his neck.

“You're crazy, you know that, right?” Smokescreen admonished.

“Just in love.” Jazz glanced at the door cloth. “He get any rest?”

Smokescreen felt a swell of guilt rise in his chest. What they shared was so intense and he'd selfishly tried to break it. “He's still resting. This is the longest I've seen him recharge since you two started the ritual.”

“Good,” Jazz replied, clearly relieved.

“You should go recharge in a berth, too.” Smokescreen offered his hand to help Jazz up.

Jazz refused it, pushing to stand up on his own. He rubbed his face with both hands and sighed.

Frowning, Smokescreen shook his head. “Are you always gonna be mad at me?”

Lowering his hands, Jazz looked at Smokescreen. “What?”

“Nothing. Forget it. I gotta go get more energon. You should go.” Smokescreen motioned for Jazz to leave.

“You aren't supposed to leave him alone. I might try an’ sneak in there.” Jazz held out his hands to take the container. “I'll go refill it.”

After hesitating a moment, Smokescreen nodded and handed it over.

“For the record, I’m not mad at you. I'm mad at myself for being tempted and drunk.” Jazz hugged the empty container to his chest. “If I seem off around you, it's just ‘cause you remind me of fragging up. That's not fair to you, though. So I am sorry if you thought I hated you. I don't.”

Smokescreen smiled a little. “That's good to know.” He dimmed his optics and glanced around at their home. “Not like the old days when our creators would meet other groups and find bondmates.”

“I know its slim pickings. But maybe one day we can roam again. And you never know when we might get new members.” Jazz always tried to see the bright side of things.

“Yeah, maybe.” Smokescreen then playfully shoved Jazz’s shoulder. “Now get going. My tank is rumbly.”

“Heh. Alright. I'll be back in a sec. Keep a close optic on my better half,” Jazz replied with a grin.

Watching Jazz bounce on his feet as he semi-jogged down the walkway, Smokescreen sighed. The way things were now, finding his own ‘better half’ would be a very long wait.

…

“This is where we get our energon. Optimus led us here after consulting with the matrix. At first we weren't so sure about moving underground,” Hound explained as they walked.

First Aid nodded, curious what exactly the matrix was, and why that large, unconscious warrior had it.

They entered a dark tunnel that made First Aid uneasy. He trusted Hound, though, and followed him down a twisting rampway. Coming around a turn, a warm, pink glow lit up the walls ahead. A few steps further and the scent of raw energon hit his sensors. Just after that a huge vein of raw energon came into view, cutting out a large swath of the right wall, with smaller veins running above their heads, following the seemingly never-ending tunnel.

“Amazing,” First Aid absently murmured in his own language.

Hound half-smiled, not knowing what he'd said but understanding the meaning anyway.

“We each have a metal container and break off only what we need for a week or so,” Hound explained as he walked up an area of the raw energon that looked untouched. “As long as we don't overharvest, it replenishes itself for us.” He carefully dislodged some pieces setting them in the container. “Our Prime told us that as long as we treat the planet with respect, we won't anger it again.”

First Aid found the concept of the planet under their feet being sensient a little silly, but he politely nodded.

“Fancy meetin’ you two down here!” Jazz said, sauntering down the rampway.

“Hey there. I was replenishing my container so I could show First Aid how we steep energon.” Hound carefully snapped the lid back in place once he'd taken about four good sized pieces.

“Oh, that sounds yummy. Maybe I could get in on that?” Jazz asked, moving to a different area of the vein to break off more for the container in his grasp.

First Aid noticed the container he held had the same strange scribbles Hound had on his map. He glanced at Hound’s container, identifying more of those marks but in smaller size along one edge instead of scrawled across the top of the lid. He pointed to Hound’s, lightly touching the scribbled shapes. “Words?”

“Yeah. Our written language,” Hound cheerfully replied. “We write our names on our containers. Obviously mine says ‘Hound’.” Glancing at Jazz’s, Hound lifted an optic ridge. “Jazz’s container says ‘Prowl’.”

Jazz snapped the cover shut and grinned at them. “He was all out, so I volunteered to fill it up.”

Hound suddenly frowned. “You're only supposed to meet with him once a week. More than that and the ritual will be invalidated!”

“Relax! Smokes was on his way down to refill it for them both so I offered to do it for him,” Jazz explained.

First Aid was unclear what the purpose of this ritual really was. It seemed extremely important to them, though. “Rit-u-al?” He repeated back carefully.

They both looked at him. Jazz’s smile grew huge. “We got a ritual thing to complete before two mechs can bond. I'm not s’possed to touch Prowl or be alone with him for six weeks.”

“Why?” First Aid asked.

“It's to test their commitment. The time apart is supposed to allow them time to be introspective and contemplate the huge commitment they’re about to enter into,” Hound explained.

“I already knew he was the one for me before I even had my adult upgrades,” Jazz added, running his fingers over Prowl’s name on the lid. “So, ah, how about I drop this off with Smokes, and we head back to Hound’s for some steeped energon?”

First Aid smiled a little. Each of them were so interesting to him. Good sparked, caring, friendly. He still didn’t trust them completely, but he was definitely feeling more comfortable with them. It helped that his translation program was finally working a little better, and he could at least offer one or two word replies.

Jazz and Hound chatted as they all walked back up the rampway. First Aid softly sighed, wondering if Trailbreaker was also okay out there in the land of flying wildland mechs and weapons. He wanted to see the one mech he did truly trust again.

…

“I think my feet might fall off. Maybe that big one could give me a ride for a while?” Sideswipe whined.

Sunstreaker brushed at the dust on his plating, frowning. “I need a good wash so bad, it’s not even funny.”

At the same time, Ratchet wheezed, obviously trying to repress a cough.

Mirage sighed, annoyed at his current status as a backpack for Trailbreaker. The large mech seemed un-phased by the extra weight, lumbering along and answering Bluestreak’s questions when the young mech paused long enough for someone to say something. Meanwhile, Ironhide stayed at the back, rear guard in case they were attacked, Mirage presumed.

The forest had started to thin, and more rust sea became visible ahead after almost a whole day’s walk.

Trailbreaker glanced back at Ironhide. “Same place as before? Overhang?”

“Maybe we should find another spot. Just to be safe,” Ironhide replied.

Bluestreak lit up. “Oh! What about the cave thing we passed on our way up here that I--”

Trailbreaker slapped a hand over his mouth. “Never give specifics about location out here. Enemies can eavesdrop from far away.”

“Oh, I forgot,” Bluestreaker replied, hand muffling mouth.

Lowering his hand, Trailbreaker rested it over Mirage’s ankle again. “Did it have enough space for all of us?” He asked.

“Yep! I’ll lead?” Bluestreak bounced on his toes.

“Lead away,” Trailbreaker replied.

“Tell me something,” Mirage said as Bluestreak began to take them in a slightly different direction. “You mechs never transform to cover ground faster?”

“We’d be more vulnerable in vehicle modes. This way our weapons are close at hand, and we have extra armor to protect us,” Trailbreaker explained. “Besides, it’s harder to take in the beauty with sensors only. I like being able to witness everything around us with my own optics.”

Mirage snorted a laugh at that. “You wildland mechs are nothing like how I imagined. Now those nasty flying ones, they are definitely what I pictured, but you three are strange.”

“Says the mech that can’t process raw energon,” Ironhide replied from behind.

Mirage scoffed at the large red mech.

“What did he say?” Sideswipe asked, curious.

“Making fun of the fact I can’t process their raw energon,” Mirage replied. He found his translation program moved fluidly between the languages now, with hardly a second thought as he answered in the wildland dialect one moment and then Cybertronian the next.

“We’ll need to copy that program from your system when we get wherever we’re headed,” Ratchet said, glancing over his shoulder at Ironhide for a moment. The two exchanged disapproving frowns.

“That old red one, what is it? Hide?” Sideswipe gestured to him. “Well, anyway, he’s like wildland version Ratch.” He chuckled at his own description.

“I’m nothing like him!” Ratchet huffed.

Sunstreaker glanced at Ironhide, waving. The elder mech grunted in response.

“They really shouldn’t taunt him. Ironhide is our best warrior,” Bluestreak said, slowing his pace to watch the awkward interaction.

“Don’t you worry about them. Which way now?” Trailbreaker asked, refocusing his younger companion.

“Oh, yeah. We’re not too far now. I’m sure our new friends aren’t used to walking his much and would probably like a little break.” Bluestreak held his head high and led them through an area where two steep slopes met at their bases. Overhead smaller crystals grew at funny angles out of the slope sides giving them a little bit of cover.

Mirage rested his cheek against Trailbreaker’s upper back. His tank was already running low and he’d not walked one step. Clearly, it was his autorepair draining him, and it galled him to be this vulnerable in front of all these mechs he didn’t know. If he wasn’t so reliant on them for survival at the moment, he’d put up his invisibility cloak and book it back to Iacon. Unfortunately, he was far too weak and ill to take off just yet.

“Right over here!” Bluestreak ran ahead, but stayed in view until they almost caught up. Then he disappeared.

Mirage perked up at that. “Where did he--” his question died in his vocalizer as they reached a virtually impossible to spot cavern opening. It didn’t look like a natural cave, though. It appeared to be ruins that had partly surfaced, creating a pocketed space for them to duck into.

Inside it was dark, but Trailbreaker popped something off his hip armor and after a moment Bluestreak had set up a light using the natural properties of the crystals. Mirage was impressed with their ingenuity.

“Ask if they can make more of that liquid energon for you,” Ratchet said, gesturing to his twins to help Mirage down from Trailbreaker’s back.

They got him on his feet, but he was still quite wobbly. Sunstreaker gently helped him to sit down. Mirage looked at Trailbreaker. “You made liquid energon for me? Yesterday?”

“We called it steeped energon. And yes. You need more?” Trailbreaker asked.

“Course he does,” Ironhide brusquely replied. “He’s a mess. Blue, get the heat going.” He removed his bowl and handed it off to Bluestreak.

“I was trying to be polite,” Trailbreaker murmured.

“Why bother. He was a complete pain in the aft after we fought off those flying vermin to save them. Other than translating for us, he’s a burden out here.” Ironhide moved a section of metal to cover the opening to the cavern.

“Such a gracious host.” Mirage folded his arms over his chest. “Fine, don’t bother making your liquid--”

“Steeped...” Bluestreak corrected.

“-- _Steeped_ energon. Let me die out here. At this point it’s not like I care.” Mirage angrily huffed.

“What did he say to you?” Ratchet asked, concerned.

“That I’m a burden.” Mirage shook his head. “Like I don’t know what already.”

“Your spark and build require specialized fuel, but that's not _your_ fault.” Ratchet got to his feet, and both twins looked worried as he walked up to Ironhide, squaring his shoulders to show they were the same size. “I know you don’t understand me, but you better knock off the sour attitude slag right now. I don’t give a frag if you’re the strongest, fastest warrior in all of the wildlands, I can seal your jaw shut with a flick of finger.” He held up his hand, transforming his fingertip into a laser scalpel.

Ironhide’s optics grew wide at the sight of his fingertip. “What did he say?”

“Aren’t healers sacred? Aren’t we supposed to be extra respectful toward them?” Bluestreak asked, canting his head at Trailbreaker. The larger black mech then nodded in reply.

Mirage stifled a laugh. These wildland mechs had some strange ideas about things. “He said you better not mess with him.”

Ironhide held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Yeesh.”

Ratchet transformed his fingertip back, and moved to sit down with his twins, satisfied his message was received. Once settled in, he coughed for a moment, and each of the brothers placed a hand on his back.

“He's in bad shape, too. I thought healers were supposed to be healthy,” Ironhide groused.

“Kaon is quite filthy, and they burn energon for power. The air is laced with some nasty stuff,” Mirage explained. “How much further do we have?”

“Another day’s walk,” Trailbreaker replied.

Bluestreak broke off some pieces of raw energon to put in the bowl. “I don’t have a lot left. How about you?”

Trailbreaker took out his pouch and frowned. “Not much. Should share with them first, though.” He broke what he had into three pieces, and offered them to Ratchet and the twins. They each took the offered fuel and nodded their thanks. Trailbreaker didn’t have any left once he’d shared, but he smiled anyway, hooking his pouch back under his hip armor.

Ironhide took out his pouch next, breaking the small bit he had left in half and giving part of it to Trailbreaker. Bluestreak had just enough left for himself after making the steeped liquid fuel for Mirage.

Melted in the bowl, Bluestreak picked it up with both hands, and held it out to Mirage. “Enjoy this gift and be well,” he said.

Sadly smiling, Mirage took the bowl. Staring down at the liquid, guilt filled his chest. They were giving up the very last of their fuel to save not one, but four mechs they wanted to help. They were _nothing_ like the other wildland mechs.

“Tastes best when it’s still warm,” Bluestreak said, optics bright as he waited for Mirage to sip before he would eat his own meager bite of raw energon.

Lifting the bowl to his lips, he sipped the fuel. It tasted _incredible_. Fresh energon, without anything to water down or extend the yield tasted better than the best high grade he’d been served in the Towers. His tank practically sang as it settled, autorepair quickly kicking into gear.

Looking around at these mechs, Mirage realized they were much nicer than any of his supposed friends back in Iacon. So why was he so antsy to leave? Why did being around good mechs like these make him so uncomfortable? He frowned a little, then finished off the steeped energon, hoping by tomorrow he would feel well enough to leave them before they all came to the same conclusion Ironhide already had about him.

…

 

_The sparklings and younglings ran through the caves, laughing. The adults were outside busily packing up for the last leg of their trip. Their Prime promised they were close to their new home, half a day’s travel left and they would find sanctuary._

_Prowl had planned on helping his creators pack up, but Jazz had convinced him to come play instead. They were playing hide and seek in the winding caverns. The safe rock had Trailbreaker and Hoist there to call out if a mech made it or not. Prowl knew Jazz was trying to find him, so he ducked down into a small alcove, folding his sensor panels around him. He dimmed his optics and watched to see if anyone would notice him here. Hound paused near him, but then moved on._

_“Gotcha!” Jazz hopped down from above, having moved carefully along a small rocky ledge to get a higher vantage point._

_Prowl laughed. “You did. I lose.”_

_Jazz crawled into Prowl’s lap. “I win, and you got me now, so you win, too.”_

_“Not sure that’s logical,” Prowl replied with a small smile._

_“Logic is overrated,” Jazz said, waving a dismissive hand._

_Prowl wrapped one arm around Jazz, pulling him close when Tracks went running by with Smokescreen just behind him._

_“Prowl?” Jazz asked in a whisper._

_“Hm?”_

_“Ever think about things?”_

_Prowl lifted an optic ridge. “I think about a lot of things.”_

_“No, I mean… You ever wonder what a kiss is like?” Jazz asked._

_Prowl’s faceplates heated. Jazz was a good ten vorns younger, and while Prowl was closer to adulthood, he also knew that was still a long way off. “I don’t think so.”_

_“Really?” Jazz looked pensive for a moment. “My creators kissed a lot. When I think ‘bout them, I remember that the most. I just wonder what it is they liked so much about it?”_

_Petting Jazz’s back, Prowl sadly smiled. Jazz’s creators had passed away less than a vorn ago and he’d been staying with Prowl’s family since. They had grown incredibly close and he knew despite their youth it was more than kinship he felt for his younger friend. “You want to kiss me?” Prowl concluded for Jazz, since he was obviously too shy to directly ask._

_“Yeah.”_

_Prowl gently touched their lips together. Jazz curled his fingers into his Prowl’s plating, then pressed forward with excitement. Lip-only, they held the kiss for a long moment then parted. Prowl felt his spark pulsing faster in his chest, and gazed into Jazz’s bright aqua optics. “How was that?”_

_“Perfect.” Jazz dreamily smiled. “One day, when we’re all grown up, I’m gonna ask you to bond to me. Okay?”_

_Prowl chuckled. “Okay.”_

 

Optics dimly lit, and Prowl took a moment to bask in the warmth of one of his favorite memories. Jazz knew before he did they were meant for one another.

With a satisfied sigh, Prowl fully onlined his optics and let his systems completely boot up. That had been the most restful night of recharge he’d had in days. Pushing to sit up, he stretched his sensor panels and arms.

“Smokescreen?” he called out.

His fellow Praxian appeared in the doorway. “You want some?” He held out a full container of energon.

“I do,” Prowl replied, getting to his feet and walking over. He took a small piece. “I thought I was almost out of energon?”

“You were _completely_ out, and I was going to refill it, but a certain little mech was recharging outside your room all night, and I nearly tripped over him on my way out.” Smokescreen put back the lid. “He went down for us.”

Jazz was keeping his promise from so long ago. “Three more weeks,” Prowl said absently before putting the piece of energon in his mouth.

Smokescreen smiled a little. “Three more weeks, and then you two can go back to making us all sick to our tanks by being stupidly happy together. I mean that in the best way possible.”

Prowl shook his head at Smokescreen. “Well, love sickness aside, the day has already started, and I should make my rounds with everyone.”

“Lead the way, leader,” Smokescreen replied.

Prowl’s warm mood then faded. He felt like a complete failure as a leader. He’d not been able to wake their Prime, and if he’d seen sooner during the battle the true danger that silver mech with the large black weapon that shot fire truly posed, he would have pulled them back. Instead, Optimus nearly died and they lost several good warriors in a fruitless battle. If only that healer was strong enough to fix their Prime.

“Prowl? You okay?”

Looking up, Prowl frowned. “Let’s go.”


	10. Arrival

Checking on the mech they called both Optimus and Prime, First Aid saw something encouraging. One of the halted areas of healing showed some activity. He leaned in close, using the settings on his visor to examine at a microscopic level. “Nanite repair,” he murmured in his own language.

“You see something?” Hound asked, curious.

“Cleaning helped,” First Aid replied. He stood back up at his full height, looking to Optimus’ face. He'd carefully cleaned his body for several days mostly out of boredom but also to see if the daily processes of an autorepair system that usually handled such deep cleaning tasks would be affected. And it had been. His autorepair was confirmed functional, which narrowed the cause of his condition to being low nanite levels.

“Okay, not to sound rude or anything, but how does cleanin’ him help?” Jazz asked.

First Aid sighed. His lack of vocabulary would make explaining impossible. “Complicated.”

Hound and Jazz both frowned.

A dose of healthy nanites to inject into his lines would kick start his body into resuming repairs, but he needed a mech with a matching energy signature for a donation. Without proper equipment he couldn't be sure any of the mechs in their group would be a match. Especially if what he'd read in Alpha Trion’s journals was true, and Optimus had originally been an outsider to the group.

If Ratchet was here, he'd know what to do. At least he'd figured out the cause without relying on medical equipment.

Prowl appeared in the doorway, and Jazz grinned at him. Shyly smiling back, Prowl looked momentarily like a gentle mech. But as soon as he looked to First Aid that softness disappeared. “Have you healed him yet?”

First Aid frowned a little. “Heal _not_ magic.”

“You have the sacred power to return life to those dying.” He looked at Jazz for a moment, then back at First Aid. “Do the same for our Prime. _Please_.”

Shaking his head, First Aid heavily sighed. “Need help.”

Prowl’s sensor panels lowered at that, and he sadly gazed at Optimus.

“What about the group of healers we used to see when we were still nomads? Down south? They helped our Prime back then, right?” Hound asked.

“It's been so long since we roamed. I'm not sure anyone left in the group knows where they were located. We were all still sparklings back then. Not to mention that after so much time, they may have moved,” Prowl replied.

“Bet you anythin’ Hide remembers,” Jazz replied.

“Oh yeah. I bet he'd know,” Hound chimed in.

Prowl slowly nodded. “Perhaps. But that's at least a two week journey to get down there. We can't move him, right?” He looked to First Aid.

First Aid confirmed with a shake of his head.

Jazz crossed his arms over his chest. “Too bad we can't travel faster.”

“It's something to think on for now.” Prowl locked gazes with First Aid. “I want to apologize for locking you in here. I thought--” he frowned. “Uninterrupted time with our Prime would give you the needed focus for your powers and keep you safe. Alpha Trion often spent long stretches of time alone with his patients to perform his acts of healing.”

Alpha Trion worked with archaic equipment in less than ideal conditions, of course he needed time. First Aid appreciated the apology though, and nodded to Prowl.

“If anything more changes, please inform me,” Prowl added. He bowed to his Prime, then turned and left with Smokescreen trailing behind.

“He's is in a better mood today,” Hound commented.

“He finally got a full recharge cycle in,” Jazz replied. “Lot more reasonable when he's not runnin’ on fumes.”

First Aid looked at Optimus, wishing he was able to help him. He was also intrigued by the idea of a group of healers on their own out here in the wildland. He'd have to comb through Alpha Trion’s journals more to see if he wrote about them.

…

They'd moved out from their hidden location in the ruins early. Mirage was disappointed to find his body still too weak to leave them. He'd tried walking at first, lasting no more than about an hour before he suddenly came to a halt, legs quivering beneath him, barely able to stay upright.

Trailbreaker once again lifted him up onto his back, easily carting him without any protest. Mirage huffed, clinging to the broad black shoulders and internally cursing the whole situation. This was supposed to be an easy job. Get in, take pictures, get out. But the more he thought about it, the more he wondered why they'd been given such a robust translation program. Had the company that hired him known he'd likely be captured?

“I've never walked this much in my whole life. We can't die from walking, right Ratch?” Sideswipe asked with a lop-sided smile.

“You'll survive,” Ratchet replied with a small smile of his own, followed by a cough.

“You hear that?” Bluestreak asked, sensor panels fanning outward.

“Mirage, could you tell them to please be quiet for a moment?” Trailbreaker asked.

“Trailbreaker says shut up. Though, he said it nicer than that,” Mirage translated.

They all slowed, and the wildland mechs went on high alert.

“Engines,” Ironhide hissed. “‘Breaker, get them all inside your forcefield.”

“You can't fight them alone!” Trailbreaker protested.

“I might be out of arrows but I can fight!” Bluestreak added.

“What's going on?” Ratchet asked Mirage.

“I think we have incoming flying afts,”

Mirage replied.

The twins instantly moved into a defensive stance, protecting Ratchet between them.

“I'm so gonna smash their faces in this time!” Sunstreaker growled.

Trailbreaker suddenly spoke quickly and with authority. “We’re on an exposed path, we can't hide. So here's what we’re going to do: Blue, give one of the brothers your small club, you're staying in the force field with me, no argument. Prowl’ll kill me if you get hurt... Mirage, tell Ratchet to come close to me, too. Ironhide, give the other brother your spare club, and Mirage let them know they’ve got no choice but to fight.”

“You want to make a stand?” Mirage asked in shock.

“We can't run. We have to stand our ground,” Trailbreaker replied.

Ironhide nodded. “Agreed.”

Mirage explained to Ratchet and the twin brothers, weapons were exchanged, and Ratchet and Bluestreak huddled close as Trailbreaker put out his hand and a bubble-shaped forcefield went up around them all.

“Don't you two morons get killed!” Ratchet yelled.

They glanced at him with mirrored smiles.

“No way we’re abandoning you,” Sideswipe replied.

The engine roar that the wildland mechs heard finally got loud enough for the rest of them to also notice. Over the distant hilly area three of those flying mechs appeared. Mirage tensed, fingers unconsciously digging into Trailbreaker’s shoulders as the recent memories of his own capture flashed through his mind. He wouldn't be taken again… No, he'd die first at his own hand if it came to that.

Ironhide stood at the forefront, sword drawn and ready, with the brothers now flanking him, clubs at the ready.

The first flying mech that approached was dark red, he swooped down swinging his own sword right at Ironhide. The wildland warrior shifted his stance, and the blades clanged loudly upon contact.

A light blue one made for Sideswipe, swinging his sword. Stupid move, though. Sideswipe saw it coming, and easily lifted his club up to block the blade.

An orange flier saw his comrades’ mistakes, and pulled up. From on high, he dove downward, sword pointed right at Sunstreaker. Lifting the club up over his shoulder like a baton in a ball tournament, he swung using the full force of his upper body, twisting at the waist. His club struck so hard the sword smashed into bits. The flier quickly dropped the useless handle, and scrambled to fly away. Sunstreaker took one step forward and swung again, this time the club made contact with the flier’s side, which sent him skidding across the ground.

Ironhide and the dark red flier crossed swords, the sound of metal striking metal rang out. He fought hard, his face etched with anger that went beyond their sword battle.

Sideswipe lost ground to the flier he fought, unable to do much more than block and move back. Annoyed, he finally dropped down into a crouch, causing the flier to misstep as he swung his sword and didn't hit anything. In that moment, Sideswipe jumped him and they both fell to the ground. He slammed the flier’s hand into the ground, causing him to cry out, sword falling from his grasp.

“We’re the elite guard to the Prime of Iacon! And _this_ time we saw you coming!” Sideswipe snarled, fists pummeling the flier’s head as he settled his weight over the mech’s middle to immobilize him.

Sunstreaker snorted at the flier on the ground, cowering. He then whacked him once in the head, knocking him offline.

“You're the one,” Ironhide growled, spinning on his toes and swinging his sword as hard as he could. The force of his strike was enough to put his opponent off balance. He took advantage of the moment, sword jabbing right into the mech’s plating at chest level on his right side. Stepping close, Ironhide held the flier’s terrified gaze. “I don't normally stab my enemies but this is retribution for almost killing Jazz you ugly piece of scrap.” He then shoved the mech off his sword, energon smearing the blade.

“Holy slag,” Bluestreak murmured.

Ratchet looked horrified. “Tell him to drop the force field!”

“Why? That mech almost killed one his little friends,” Mirage replied.

“Incapacitate! Don't kill!” Ratchet yelled back. He pounded the field, but Trailbreaker refused to lower his hand.

Sideswipe got off the light blue flier that he'd knocked into dreamland. Sunstreaker moved to his brother’s side, grimly staring at the red flier on the ground, energon seeping from his wound.

Fed up with being held back, Ratchet grabbed Trailbreaker’s hand, breaking his modification’s connection. The field dropped, and Ratchet raced toward the stabbed flier. “What the frag is wrong with you?”

Ironhide used a cloth to wipe his blade, frowning at Ratchet.

“We just knocked the ones we fought out,” Sideswipe commented.

Ratchet ran his fingers around the wound area, pulsing to check for depth of damage. To his shock, he found the deep cut through the mech missed anything vital. There was a little bleeding, and the sword _had_ hit a section of sensory nodes, inflicting maximum pain for such a minimal stab. The mech wailed, shivering on the ground from the pain.

Ratchet sat back on his heels and looked over his shoulder at Ironhide. “Did he know? Mirage, ask him if he knew what he was doing.”

Mirage raised an optic ridge. “He wants to know if you knew what you were doing, Ironhide.”

Ironhide then smiled as he held Ratchet’s gaze. “I don't kill.”

“He said he doesn't kill,” Mirage translated with a smirk.

“Aft,” Ratchet grumbled.

Ironhide slid his sword back into the sheath and then pat each twin on the shoulder. “You two are true warriors.”

“What did he say?” Sideswipe asked, glancing at Mirage.

“That you are both ‘true warriors’.” Mirage couldn't help but smile a little. This sort of comradery wasn't something he'd experienced before, and he had to admit it was nice.

“We really need to go. As soon as the other two come around, they'll be on us again. We need to cover as much ground as possible, get to the platform,” Trailbreaker said as he started walking, Bluestreak falling in step behind him.

The twins flanked Ratchet and Ironhide brought up the rear as they moved quickly up the rise in the hill. Partway up, Ratchet started coughing. Everyone slowed to a stop as he tried to get the fit under control.

“For the love of Primus himself!” Ironhide groused. “That's it! He's gonna hold us up. Tell him he's either riding on my back or I'm throwing him over my shoulder,” Ironhide said, looking at Mirage.

“What's his problem?” Sunstreaker asked, focus narrowing on the elder warrior.

“He says Ratchet either rides on his back like me, or he'll throw him over his shoulder. Seems we don't have time to spare for your illness,” Mirage explained.

“I'm not riding on that aft’s back!” Ratchet balked.

“You know, me or Sunny would carry you if we weren't so tired and barely fueled already,” Sideswipe replied.

“Maybe it's not a bad idea?” Sunstreaker added.

Ratchet huffed, which set off another small coughing fit. “Okay, fine!”

Mirage nodded the okay to Ironhide. The elder warrior crouched down in front of Ratchet. Despite being similar in size, Ironhide easily stood up with Ratchet clinging to him and immediately started walking as if he had no extra weight at all.

They made good time after that. Up the path and through a mountain pass. When they reached the end of the long pass a huge valley came into view.

Mirage stared with bright optics. “What is this place? It looks like the ground swallowed a whole mountain...”

“It's called the Fallen Land,” Trailbreaker replied. “It was once one of the great cities, but Primus returned it to the planet.”

These mechs were a little silly with their stories in Mirage’s opinion. He wished he wasn't so turned around, otherwise he might know which ancient city state this had once been.

Crossing the terrain, the wildland mechs weren't at all interested in the treasure of half buried relics under their feet. Mirage wasn't the only one marveling at what surrounded them. He noticed the twin brothers pointing to various items littering the ground all around them, too.

Looking behind, Mirage snorted a laugh at the sight of Ratchet and Ironhide with matching annoyed looks. It was like they were stamped from different ends of the same metal plating.

The daylight waned, casting their shadows in long contrasting lines across the rippling terrain.

“Almost there!” Bluestreak yelled excitedly as he skipped ahead of them.

“Almost where?” Mirage asked, turning his attention forward again. All that lie ahead of them were larger sections of ancient buildings jutting up from the flattened ground.

“Home,” Trailbreaker replied.

“But, we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Mirage replied.

Bluestreak laughed, optics shining brightly at Mirage. “Looks can be deceiving. When I first came here I thought the same thing.”

“You weren't born into this group?” Mirage asked.

“Nope. Rescued when I was a sparkling, then the mechs that found me brought me here,” Bluestreak explained.

Mirage found it curious Bluestreak was given away but didn't get a chance to ask.

“Home!” Bluestreak shouted then ran ahead.

Trailbreaker chuckled.

“What's he all excited about?” Sideswipe asked.

“He says we’re at their home,” Mirage replied, gaze scanning for some sign of life. But it was just more hilly terrain and broken pieces of their planet’s past.

Reaching a platform area Bluestreak jumped up and down. “I want to do it with one of you! Can I?”

“Of course, kid,” Ironhide replied. “One sec.” He squatted down, putting Ratchet back on his feet.  

The medic smoothed his plating, and tried to regain an air of dignity.

“I'm confused. We just walked until our pedes are about to fall off and we came to this weird piece of ancient building? There aren't even walls!” Sunstreaker said waving his arms, exasperated.

“I don't understand, either,” Mirage replied.

Ironhide walked over to Bluestreak and they pressed their hands side by side into what vaguely resembled energy lock palm pads. The moment they did, the piece of building they all stood on began to lower.

“Whoa! What the frag!” Sideswipe grabbed for his brother, and the two held hands tightly as they slowly dropped below the surface.

“Not what I expected...” Ratchet commented.

Bluestreak giggled at the twins, but Ironhide shot him a warning look to not make fun of them.

“We’re returning two days early with four extra mechs. Prowl is not going to be happy,” Trailbreaker said, glancing at Ironhide.

“Prowl is _never_ happy,” Ironhide replied. “Should thank his lucky stars we found him what he wanted and more.”

“Who is ‘Prowl’?” Mirage asked.

“He's a Praxian like me, with _beautiful_ sensor panels,” Bluestreak replied.

“He's in charge right now,” Trailbreaker clarified.

They lowered into a dark tunnel. It was ominous at best. Mirage hunkered down against Trailbreaker, frowning.

“We all need to wash up,” Bluestreak said, veering to the right toward another tunnel.

“We need to meet with Prowl first. Wash second,” Ironhide replied.

“I'm so dusty, though.” Bluestreak wiped at his plating to clear some of the dirt away.

“We all are, but it's more important we report in,” Trailbreaker responded.

Ironhide moved to the back again, behind Ratchet and his twins who were once again flanking him.

At the end of the tunnel a warm light glowed. As they drew closer, Mirage lifted his head up again, mouth gaping slightly as they stepped out onto a mezzanine area overlooking a completely hidden city below.

“Holy frag,” Ratchet said, also in awe.

Bluestreak led the way, and they walked down a winding walkway. Mechs ducked into rooms that had intricate cloths hung over the entrances, but many peered out at them from partly lifted corners.

Partway down, Mirage caught the gaze of one of the mechs inside his little home. He lifted the cloth more, revealing his whole face and calling out. For a moment, Mirage thought he was calling to him, but he'd never seen this mech before.

“He's with me,” the mech said.

Trailbreaker nodded. “Thank you, Hound,” he said in a lowered voice when they walked past.

Mirage turned his head, and he and this mech named Hound held one another’s gazes for a long moment. It broke when Ironhide greeted Hound.

At the bottom of the walkway was a large tent and open area. Creators and their sparklings were sitting in a semi-circle with two mechs telling a story and partly acting it out to entertain the youngsters.

Bluestreak jogged ahead, ducking into the tent. A moment later he popped back out, lifting the flap up to let everyone enter.

They all filed inside, but found it empty.

“I want to see First Aid,” Ratchet said, expression hardening.

“I thought your leader was going to be here,”

Mirage asked in the wildland dialect.

“I'm sure he’ll be here any second,” Bluestreak replied.

“And what about the healer you all captured? First Aid?” Mirage asked.

Ratchet and the twin brothers both looked at Mirage at mention of the mech’s name.

“We didn't _capture_ him,” Trailbreaker said. “We saved him from starving out there all alone.”

“Prowl’s gotta assess the situation first,” Ironhide explained.

“What did he say?” Ratchet asked with urgency.

“Wait for Prowl,” Mirage replied.

The reply barely left his lips when the tent flap lifted and yet another Praxian walked in. He was slightly larger than Bluestreak and his sensor panels were noticeably larger as well. He was black and white with a striking red chevron at the front of his helm. And unlike the other wildland mechs, he had external armor not only around his hips but a large piece hung from his neck, covering his chestplate and backside.

“You're back two days early,” he said, crossing to the table and turning to face the entire group.

“Is this Prowl?” Mirage whispered to Trailbreaker.

A nod confirmed the mech’s identity.

Prowl smiled a tiny bit when he looked at Bluestreak. “How was your first mission, despite being cut short?”

Bluestreak practically vibrated at being asked first to report. “So exciting! We fought Vosian Deceptions two times. I used all my arrows first fight, so Trailbreaker kept me safe in his bubble for the second fight, but Ironhide and the red and yellow mechs beat them up and we got away!”

“Ironhide?” Prowl’s softer gaze instantly hardened as he looked at the elder warrior. “Would you like to explain how a crystal collecting expedition led to bringing back four mechs and included two battles?”

“We spotted these mechs near the edge of the forest and saw one was a linguist. I made the decision to take him from those afts. We ended up also bringing the other slaves along since this one apparently knows First Aid.” Ironhide pointed to Ratchet.

“A linguist? Which one?” Prowl asked.

“Me,” Mirage answered.

Prowl looked at Mirage for a long moment then his gaze settled on Trailbreaker. “Why are you carrying him?”

“He almost died from energon starvation. His legs are still recovering,” Trailbreaker replied, cowing his head.

Prowl then looked at Ratchet but spoke to Mirage. “Ask him how he knows First Aid.”

Mirage was already getting tired of constantly translating everything and huffed. He couldn't wait to hand over his translation program to the medic to upload. “He wants to know your relationship to First Aid,” he said to Ratchet.

Ratchet pointed to the ground in front of him. “Tell this aft I want First Aid in this tent right now. I want to know he's okay.”

“He won't answer questions until he knows his friend is well and safe,” Mirage said to Prowl.

Prowl crossed his arms over his chest and slowly walked up to Ratchet. Despite their exhaustion, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker moved forward to block Prowl.

“First Aid here _now_.” Ratchet repeated.

Stopping short, Prowl glanced at Mirage.

“I'm telling you, he wants to see First Aid. And I've seen these two fight, even under-fueled and exhausted I wouldn't mess with them,” Mirage said with a frown.

“Bluestreak, fetch Hound and First Aid, please,” Prowl said, unmoving. He clearly wasn't one to be intimidated easily, either.

Bluestreak ran out of the tent and returned only a few moments later. “They were right outside,” he said smiling as he lifted the flap.

First Aid rushed in, throwing his arms around Ratchet. “What are you doing here?”

Ratchet hugged him tightly, optics dimming and relief washing over his face. “Came to get you. But ended up getting caught ourselves.”

Mirage felt Trailbreaker shift his weight beneath him. Glancing at the side of his face, he saw the large black mech’s mouth curve with a sad frown.

“You two came?” First Aid asked, looking up at the twins.

“No way we were letting Ratch come look for you alone,” Sunstreaker replied.

“And we were worried about you, too,” Sideswipe added.

“I want answers,” Prowl suddenly said, voice booming over the light chatting.

First Aid looked at Prowl, then stood in front of Ratchet, just as protective as the twin brothers of the ill medic. “Family.”

Prowl’s sensor panels lifted and he held First Aid’s gaze. “They are all your family?”

First Aid nodded.

Prowl regarded them for a moment, then glanced at Mirage. “Him?”

Mirage and First Aid looked at one another. “Not know.”

“You're running a translation program? If so, it's terrible,” Mirage said.

“He needs our help, whether or not he's part of First Aid’s family,” Trailbreaker suddenly said.

Prowl heavily sighed, sensor panels lowering slightly. “They can stay. All of them. I will have some of the empty quarters cleaned up. They will remain under guard at all times.”

“Can we go wash up then?” Bluestreak asked.

“You can, but I want Jazz to go with all of you. Equal numbers,” Prowl replied.

“I'll go grab him,” Hound offered as he stepped forward.

Once again Mirage and Hound’s gazes met for a moment. Hound smiled at Mirage, which in turn made him uncomfortable and he quickly looked away. As soon as he was strong enough he was getting the frag out of this weird place.

“Wash up, then take them all to the healing cavern so First Aid can attend the ill mech,” Prowl ordered. “Dismissed.”


	11. Backstories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as the title says, some backstory for some of the not quite central characters.

Optimus

Distant past-

“I'll ask someone to go in my place,” Optimus said, pressing his forehelm to Magnus’.

“Don't. We need the supplies,” Magnus replied, optics dimming.

“I never intended to spark you without bonding first,” Optimus quietly said, placing a hand to Magnus’ chest.

Sadly smiling, Magnus rested his hand over Optimus’. “We’ll do things a little backwards. So long as you stay by me through this, we’ll be fine.”

“I'll always belong to you, spark and body,” Optimus replied.

“Enough with the lovey dovey, you two. Me and Optimus need to get going to make the meet up on time with the Tarn group,” shouted Inferno.

“Go,” Magnus said, pulling back first.

Optimus wasn't happy about leaving things like this, but it was his turn in the rotation to make the trade for much needed supplies. He leaned in, kissing Magnus briefly. “I'll see you in four days.”

“Four days,” Magnus repeated thoughtfully. “Be careful.”

“Of course,” Optimus replied.

…

Crossing the edge of the Rust Sea was never a fun trip. Rust dust permeated every crevice of Optimus’ body despite the fabric wrap he wore. The dust was so fine and wind so strong the fabric only managed to filter not block the swirling rust.

He and Inferno finally reached the far mountainous area away from the rust sea by nightfall and set up camp.

They settled in and each quietly consumed their energon rations as darkness claimed the sky. Their particular group liked to mix raw energon with a nutrient rich silica from the valley they lived in, creating a grainy, thick mixture. He licked the bottom of his small container to be sure he didn't waste any, and then stowed the empty container in his satchel next to the collection of minerals he had brought for the trade.  

Gazing up at the glittering stars, Optimus thought of Magnus. He'd fallen for him the day his family asked to join their group. They were only younglings at the time but Optimus couldn't take his optics off the unusual and beautiful new member. Magnus had been aloof at first, shy and reserved round the other young mechs, but Optimus had persisted, eventually winning his trust.

“You two seem to be having an intense conversation earlier,” Inferno said, putting his own energon container away.

“I suppose we were. I plan on bonding with him,” Optimus replied.

“He looked upset.” Inferno canted his head slightly. “He doesn't want to bond?”

Optimus softly sighed. “It's not that. We have some issues to work out first is all.”

“Hm. Tell me about issues. Don't get me wrong, I'd die for Red to save his life without question, but some days I'm left questioning my own sanity.” He chuckled. “Seriously, though. Bonding is huge commitment.”

 _So is a sparkling_ … Optimus thought to himself. “I know.”

Inferno settled himself in against a rock. “Mind taking first watch? Red kept me up late last night.”

Optimus smiled a little. “I don't mind.”

…

Reaching their rendezvous point the next afternoon, Optimus and Inferno looked around. The area was beautiful. They were at the edge of a hidden lake of water nestled in the mountains surrounded by waist-high glittering crystals. But it was a little worrisome that the group they arranged the trade with was nowhere in sight.

“I suppose they were delayed?” Optimus said, scanning the distance.

“Guess so,” Inferno replied. He took off his satchel and disrobed, dropping his wrap on the ground.

Optimus quickly averted his gaze.

Chuckling, Inferno waded into the lake water. “No need to be shy. We’re both filthy. Let's get cleaned up.”

Curling his fingers, Optimus felt the fine dust grinding between the joints. A wash would be nice. He removed his bag, too, then turned sideways as he untied his wrap. He felt a little funny about exposing himself now that he and Magnus were together, but need trumped modesty. Neatly folding the cloth, he set it next to his satchel and then joined his comrade in the cool lake water.

They chatted a little about nothing significant, enjoying the lovely area so different than their home in the valley and letting the water help wash away some of the dust.

Suddenly a shrill sound echoed off the mountain walls.

Optimus stilled in the water. “What was that?”

“Cyberwolf?” Inferno postulated.

It sounded like no cyberwolf Optimus had ever heard. A sense of dread crept through his spark. “We need to leave. _Now_.”

Inferno didn't question Optimus. He got out of the lake and wrapped himself in his cloth.

Optimus was about to put his on, too, when a whine of a high-pitched engine echoed off the mountainside. “Go, run. Hide!” He quickly said to Inferno.

“I'm not leaving you!” Inferno replied.

“We have to split up. Otherwise we’ll both be caught. _Go_!” Optimus waved at Inferno. “We’ll meet where we camped last night.”

Inferno frowned but nodded. “See you in a few hours.” He threw his bag over his shoulders and took off.

Optimus finished tying his wrap, and reached for his satchel when flying Vosians appeared. Three of them. He was much larger than they were, which was his _only_ advantage. His group didn't carry weapons, so he had to rely on his own strength to fend them off.

The first one flew at him full force, knocking him on his aft. He punched that one’s face, knocking him offline. Scrambling to get back up, he was knocked down again by another flier. This one had a club in his hands and began beating on Optimus.

“Get the bag!” The third flier shrieked with a thick accent.

The one he'd punched offline, roused. Groggily he grabbed for the bag while the other two began pummeling Optimus with clubs.

Optimus couldn't fight back. He tried flailing, kicking, grabbing for a club to stop the beating, but he'd just get hit by another club, forcing him to let go. Finally a blow to his helm knocked him out.

…

Coming to, Optimus found himself tied down to a large piece of metal plating. He was exposed, his robe having been removed. Metal straps wrapped around his middle securing him from moving, and his legs and arms were bound together.

Looking around he saw he was in a tent. He needed to escape. He promised Magnus he'd stay at his side. That he would be careful. He struggled against the bindings around his wrists.

“I'll let you go once I'm done,” a voice said just before the tent flap lifted. A purple mech, definitely _not_ a Vosian appeared. He had one optic in the middle of his face and only one hand. “First, I need a sampling from you.”

“I've done nothing wrong. You're flying allies took my minerals. All I ask is for my life to be spared,” Optimus said, trying to mask the fear he felt rising up inside his chest.

The purple mech gently pet Optimus’ helm with his one hand. “You poor mech. You have no idea what's going on. Since the cataclysm I've been working very hard to restore our species to the top tier in the universe. Once I've got enough samplings of sparks, I should be able to build my very own Vector Sigma. But in _my_ version, I'll have it programmed to create exactly what I want, instead of leaving the spark creation to chance.”

“Vector Sigma? What are you talking about?” Optimus asked, spark lurching at the idea of being ‘sampled’. This mech was insane.

“I promise not to kill you. But so you don't tell anyone what I'm doing…” The purple mech pressed his strange pointed non-hand at the base of Optimus’ helm. “I can't have you remembering any of this.”

A sharp, hot pulse echoed inside Optimus’ head. Pain like he'd never felt before ravaged his entire body. “Magnus…” he whispered before the world went black.

…

“His optics are lighting.”

“That's a good sign.”

“Hey, hello my poor fellow. Please speak so we know if you're alright,” said a mech with a strange metallic flourish on his upper lip.

“What's happened?” Optimus asked.

“We found you near death. The tribe I'm studying knew of a small group of healers, and so here we are. They quite excellent at their practice.” The strange mech smiled. “I'm Alpha Trion. And you are?”

“Optimus.” His processor felt hazy. He tried to access memories to see what happened but it came back blank. He dug further, but all that came up were images of a valley, small dwellings and the face of youngling whose name he couldn't recall.

“Where are you from?” Alpha Trion asked.

“I don't know.”

Looking concerned, Alpha Trion frowned. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

“No.”

Sighing, Alpha Trion forced a smile. “Well, the tribe I'm with are happy to have you join them and look after you until you're well.”

“Thank you,” Optimus replied. “I feel like there's something I'm supposed to remember but I can't.”

“Perhaps in time you will,” Alpha Trion replied.

...

The Matrix

Some time ago-

_I've lived with these wildland natives for so long now, I'm sure those that knew me back in Iacon have forgotten about me. Part of me misses life there, despite how much the cataclysm changed the city. But the more time I spend with these mechs, the more I lose myself in their world. No matter how much I wish to be part of it, though, I remain separate._

_The truth of the matter is: I cannot risk myself or they will be without a healing presence. I've crossed the line in my research and cannot turn back now._

Alpha Trion softly sighed, then closed his journal entry. He stowed the datapad in his designated container on board the small wagon housing everyone’s belongings.

The nomadic life was often hard, but in recent months things had gotten dire. The places they usually harvested energon from were either bare or claimed by other wildland mechs unwilling to share the dwindling supply.

He walked through the encampment, sparklings running past while playing and laughing, unaware of the situation they were in. Adults were cutting their rations to be sure the younger generation had what they needed.

Near the edge of camp Alpha Trion spotted Optimus. The young mech never regained his memory and this tribe had taken him in as if he'd always been a part of their lives. Optimus was unusual, though. Not only in his appearance, being so much larger than an average mech, but he'd shown time and time again he had an almost unnatural ability to locate energon or hear danger long before anyone else.

By the look on his face and his body language, Alpha Trion could tell Optimus sensed something the others didn't.

Walking over, Alpha Trion crossed his arms over his chest, gazing up at the mountain side tunnels with Optimus. “Tell me, what do you see?”

“Nothing. But…” Optimus squinted his optics. “I sense something important has been hidden up there.”

Glancing at Optimus, Alpha Trion felt a sense of awe. This mech was special. He had no doubt in his mind about that. “Shall we mount a little exploration group?”

Optimus frowned at that. “Not sure that's wise. The ground looks unstable. I'm sure my weight would cause collapse, let alone several of us.”

“I could go!”

They both turned to see youngling Jazz standing behind them and his friend Prowl jogging up.

“Go where?” Prowl asked, joining them.

“It's not safe,” Optimus replied to Jazz.

“I can climb on anything _and_ I weigh a lot less than you guys,” Jazz said proudly. He then looked at Prowl. “Optimus thinks something cool is up there.”

Optimus placed a hand on Jazz’s helm. “I would never ask any sparkling or youngling to risk themselves. No matter how ‘cool’ something may be.”

Jazz pouted and Prowl took hold of his hand. “Sorry we bothered you,” Prowl said with an apologetic look.

Optimus warmly smiled at Prowl. “Never a bother. I assure you.”

…

Alpha Trion found recharge elusive that evening, and got up in to wander the edge of camp and gaze at the landscape around them in the darkness.

He glanced at the mountainside and froze midstep. A flickering light was weaving through the tunnels. “Jazz you little…”

Alpha Trion sprinted toward the lit area, and at the mount side base began to climb upward. The terrain wasn't very even and often where he'd put a hand or foot, the ground gave way. Still, he wasn't letting that sparkling crawl around the dangerous caves.

The light dimmed above him, and he called up. “Stop! It's not safe!”

Suddenly the light grew brighter. To his shock the face that peered over the edge was Optimus’. “What are you doing!”

“I thought Jazz came up here! I saw the light!” Alpha Trion replied.

Reaching a long arm down, Optimus gestured to Alpha Trion. “I found a way up that was safe for me. Take my hand.”

Grasping the large blue hand, Alpha Trion was pulled up to a ledge. He sighed with relief to be on steady ground. “Are you insane? Coming up alone at night?”

“I couldn't recharge. Something here is calling me. I have to answer,” Optimus replied. “You don't hear the hum?”

Alpha Trion stared at Optimus with bright optics, suddenly remembering a story he heard at a social gathering of scientists back in Iacon. One told the story of a mech that heard a hum calling to him in the mines of Kaon. He'd left his post and traveled down dangerous tunnels until he came to the chamber that housed Vector Sigma. That mech had been Sentinal, later crowned a Prime. The scientists theorized some mechs on Cybertron were direct spark descendants of Primus and attuned to the relics their creator had touched.

“You hear a hum? Tell me what it sounds like,” Alpha Trion said, getting to his feet.

“It's a low frequency sound, but melodic. It's getting louder if I go down this tunnel,” Optimus explained.

Glancing down the tunnel, Alpha Trion felt his own spark start to pulse faster. “Let's go. Lead the way.”

They followed the tunnel deep into the mountain. Optimus used his chest lights to illuminate the way. But after ducking and weaving through the uneven tunnel it grew larger and a light seemed to emanate from the end.

“It's here,” Optimus said, picking up his pace.

They entered a small chamber. On a pedestal sat an ancient relic Alpha Trion knew the Iacon and Kaon councils were looking for: the Matrix of Leadership.

“It's beautiful,” Optimus said, touching the edges of it.

“It called to you. It's yours to hold and protect,” Alpha Trion explained.

“You know what it is?” Optimus asked.

“Yes, it's the Matrix of Leadership. It holds infinite power. Well, supposedly,” Alpha Trion replied, unable to tear his gaze away from the incredible relic.

“It wants me to pick it up.” Optimus lifted it up with both hands. He looked confused for a moment. “Inside me?”

“The shape… open your chest,” Alpha Trion directed.

He'd noticed when they repaired Optimus his inside chest was shaped differently than other mechs he'd repaired. Instead of a center slot, his chest parted down the middle and opened like doors.

Optimus let his chest open for Alpha Trion without question.

Alpha Trion traced his fingers around the area at the front of his body void of circuitry or systems. “It will fit here perfectly. Just over your spark.”

Optimus carefully placed it in the slot, and closed his chest. The light of the room went out.

“It's pleased I found it,” Optimus said will a small smile.

“Does it speak?” Alpha Trion asked.

“Not in words, but yes,” Optimus replied, holding a hand over his chest.

“Incredible. Bearing this Matrix makes you a Prime. You're now Optimus _Prime_ ,” Alpha Trion said, placing a hand on Optimus’ shoulder and squeezing.

Looking unsure and humble, Optimus nodded. “I'll look after it, and it will look after us.”

…

The Twins

Very young sparklings-

Sunstreaker couldn't remember the last time he felt well. He trudged along side his brother, with the large white medic that had adopted them walking just behind. His chest felt heavy. No matter how much or what kind of fuel the group home caretakers gave them, they'd only gotten more and more ill.

The medic gently pat their helms. “Almost home.”

They entered an apartment building and were ushered into the lift. Sideswipe grabbed Sunstreaker’s hand, squeezing it. At the same time a staticky sensation filled his spark, causing him to wince.

The medic took them into his apartment and pointed to the couch. “Sit down.”

They obeyed, but kept their hands linked as they sat side by side.

Crouching down to optic level, the medic sadly smiled. “You two are so rare. I've never tended a set of split spark twins before, but I've read about your spark condition. Just looking at you I can tell neither one of you feel very well right now, but I know what will help. Place a little trust in me, okay?”

Sunstreaker huffed. Why should he trust anyone? No one had helped them so far.

“Okay,” Sideswipe replied. He looked at Sunstreaker expecting him to agree.

Unable to resist his brother's pleading optics, he sighed and nodded.

“This might sound strange, but I want you to turn and face each other.” Ratchet gently nudged them to move.

They mirrored one another, one leg pulled up onto the couch the other dangling so they could face one another.

“Now, I want you two to hug each other tightly, so tight your chests touch,” Ratchet explained.

Sunstreaker scowled at Ratchet in response to his stupid suggestion.

“How is hugging going to make us better?” Sideswipe asked, genuinely curious.

Ratchet gently put a hand on each of their backs. “Okay, I'll try to explain. Your sparks were once one spark. But they split apart when it got too big. So now you each have one half.”

Sunstreaker looked at his brother, having not really thought about their sparks before.

“Now that you've been apart for several vorns, your sparks need to meet again. Just for a moment. Afterward, I think you'll feel much better.” Ratchet looked between them. “I want you to hug tight and open your chests to expose your spark halves to one another.”

“Will it hurt?” Sideswipe asked.

“It shouldn't. But if you are uncomfortable at any point though I'll be right here for you,” Ratchet replied.

“He might be lying,” Sunstreaker said to his brother.

“I promise I'm not,” Ratchet said, looking worried.

“I wanna try,” Sideswipe replied to Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker huffed. “Ugh, fine. But if we die and go into the well of sparks I won't leave you alone and say I told you so.”

Ratchet covered his mouth, stifling a chuckle.

Sideswipe grabbed Sunstreaker in a hug. Relenting, he wrapped his arms around his brother’s middle, and dimmed his optics. How could doing something so weird make them not feel sick anymore? Still, nothing else worked. What was one more thing to try? Even if it was crazy-sounding.

“Press your chests close,” Ratchet directed. “Then open them.”

Doing as they were told, their tiny chests pushed together, then they opened the center slot to expose their spark chambers. For a moment nothing happened, then suddenly a surge filled Sunstreaker’s spark. It stretched from inside him, tendrils of spark energy reaching for his brother’s spark. Their sparks expanded and melded into one pulsing light between them.

An overwhelming joy blossomed inside him. Inside _them_. He was no longer just himself, he was Sideswipe and Sideswipe was him. They were one entity. It felt familiar and comforting. Warm and pure. Their thoughts were linked and their emotions mirrored one another seamlessly. They lingered together as one, reveling in how whole they felt.

They’d never experienced anything this wonderful in their short life and neither wanted it to end. But nothing this perfect could exist forever. A sensation of prickly heat tingled over their plating, followed by a burst of light.

Relighting his optics, Sunstreaker groaned. He was lying on his back on the couch next to Sideswipe who groggily rubbed his face with both hands. He didn't remember passing out… The static he'd felt in his chest was gone. His mind was the clearest it had ever been. “Frag, are we all better?”

“I'd prefer my sparklings refrain from swearing,” Ratchet said, shooting Sunstreaker a pointed look. Their adopter sat in a nearby recliner, having kept watch over them while they'd been offline.

Sideswipe rolled to to his side, facing Sunstreaker. There was a mischievous glint in his bright blue optics as he slung an arm over his yellow chest plate. “I'm totally all better now.”

“The effect you both feel is temporary. You'll need to align your sparks about once an orn.” Ratchet smiled. “And from now on I'm going to be sure both get what you need and learn about how to take care of your special sparks.”

“Cool,” Sideswipe replied.

Sunstreaker shyly looked away from Ratchet, staring at his brother instead. While he didn't fully comprehend the implications of what they'd just experienced, he had an inkling in that moment that Sideswipe would forever be the beginning and end of his entire world.

…

Current-

Standing in the broken down wash rack area of this underground wildland town, Sunstreaker used a wetted cloth to wipe dirt from his brother’s plating.

His spark ached for Sideswipe’s. The urge had been building for several days and he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to hold out.

‘I want to throw you against the wall and merge and ‘face you at the same time,’ Sunstreaker said silently over their bond. It had taken time, but with their continued merges, they'd developed the ability to share more than emotions. As adults they could now share words and even images.

Sideswipe grabbed Sunstreaker’s wrist, guiding his hand to push the cloth down the middle his chest, across his abdomen and stopping just at the top of his interface array cover. ‘Not sure I even care there's like ten mechs here. If you wanted to, I wouldn't stop you.’

Sunstreaker stepped close, touching their noses. “Don't temp me,” he said out loud.

“Not here,” Ratchet called out.

They looked over at their adoptive creator busily rinsing off under one of the working spray nozzles.

First Aid walked over to them and spoke in a lowered voice. “There's a private room in the old medbay. When we all go down there you two can be alone to take care of what you need to.”

“Thanks. We’re gonna need that,” Sideswipe replied.

Sunstreaker noticed Trailbreaker watching First Aid, despite his hands being full helping Mirage stay on his feet while the green mech, Hound, helped wash the elite mech down. “What's with the big black mech? He's been stealing looks at you.”

First Aid glanced in Trailbreaker’s direction, smiling, and Trailbreaker quickly averted his gaze. “I don't know exactly. But he's been the nicest out of everyone to me. I've missed him.”

‘Aww. First Aid has a crush,’ Sideswipe silently commented.

‘I don't think he knows that's what it is,’ Sunstreaker replied.

‘He’ll figure it out.’ Sideswipe smiled at his brother.

‘Maybe.’ Sunstreaker wasn't so sure it would be that simple. First Aid had been sheltered by Ratchet, and he wasn't a normal mech. Being a Vector Sigma mech came with its own set of issues. He lacked life experience and falling for anyone at this stage was going to be difficult for him, let alone falling for a wildland mech from a completely different culture than their own.

Looking at Sideswipe, Sunstreaker shared just how much love he felt for his brother and life companion. The emotion was mirrored and Sideswipe smiled brightly at him. At moments like this, he was eternally grateful for having been brought into this world with his bonded.

 


	12. First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Aid and Trailbreaker are reunited...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! A long chapter!

Kaon, several months ago:

“Sorry to leave you here alone to run the clinic. Hopefully this thing at the medical center won't take me too long,” Ratchet said, looking at First Aid.

“I can handle things here,” First Aid replied confidently.

Placing a hand on First Aid’s shoulder, Ratchet smiled. “I know you can. Just don't take slag from anyone, okay?”

“I won't.”

A few hours later, First Aid had tended to several of the local mechs who lived in the streets. The economy of their reborn world was shaky at best, leaving many with nowhere to go. Most repairs done at the clinic were general maintenance: updating systems, replacing worn parts, etc.

When the door slid open to reveal two young mechs of slender, racing builds First Aid was surprised.

“Help my buddy! He boosted too much, and he's not responding to me!” The bright yellow mech was supporting the weight of his friend, dragging him inside.

Wincing behind his mask, First Aid quickly took the ill mech off his friend’s hands, lifting him up and carrying him to an exam room table.

“You're strong for being average-sized,” the yellow mech commented.

“I'm built for a different function than you,” First Aid replied. He began to assess the semi-conscious patient, noting four sets of electronic booster holes along the side of his helm. “Four all at once? Or over time?”

“We each did one. I was too high to notice he'd done the rest of what we bought at once. When I started to come around I found him on the floor with all of them in his head so I ripped them out.” The young mech worriedly looked at his friend. “Will he die?”

“No. But I need to work fast to save his processor from irreversible damages.” First Aid initiated the stasis setting on the berth, offlining the young mech. He then turned to grab the delicate set of tools for processor repair from a cabinet in the exam room.

“Wait, you're a Vector Sigma mech?” The yellow mech asked, looking disgusted as he focused on the criss-crossed mark etched into First Aid’s upper arm. “Maybe I should take him someplace else…”

This wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last he'd be judged for his origin. But Ratchet had taught him not to be ashamed of who he was, and not to be bullied by ignorant mechs. “Your friend _will_ die if you don't let me do this.”

The yellow mech looked unsure. “But we’re elites from Iacon...if our creators found out who fixed him, we’d be in _so_ much trouble.”

Unwilling to let this mech become more processor damaged than he already was for sticking four boosters in his head at once, First Aid set up the tools at went to work anyway. “I'm afraid you have no choice.”

“Okay...Just save him. Please,” the young mech finally said while First Aid worked to remove sections of the helm plating.

“I promise to,” First Aid replied.

It took the better part of an hour to repair the burnt out sections of processor. He reconnected and replaced broken connections, rewired across large sections that were destroyed in hopes the young mech’s autorepair would one day rebuild the areas. This young mech who was actually thousands of vorns older than First Aid was had done incredible damage to himself.

Why would anyone do this to themselves? Life was precious. First Aid only recently learned that Ratchet saved him from having his spark extinguished. He was eternally grateful that he'd been given a chance to live. It confounded him anyone would throw everything away.

“He needs to rest,” First Aid announced, snapping the plating back. Looking at the yellow mech, he frowned behind his mask. “Maybe I should check your processor, too.”

“No fragging way. Look no offense but I don't really trust Vector Sigma mechs. Only reason I didn't stop you repairing him is because he'd die otherwise,” the young mech replied.

First Aid tried not to let words like that get to him, but it stung nonetheless. Grateful for his visor, tears that welled up were unseen. He didn't say another word, leaving the exam room.

He would never be accepted in this world unless he went to live in one of the designated Vector Sigma zones. Even then, being separated wouldn't stop the stigma that he carried.

….

Now:

Hound and Trailbreaker helped Mirage onto a berth in the old medbay the wildland mechs called a healing cavern.

Ratchet looked around, assessing the space, his gaze stopping on the large warrior in stasis. The twins also exchanged looks regarding the large unconscious mech.

Prowl came in after them with Jazz and Ironhide.

“Everyone will stay here until we have suitable quarters to move you to,” Prowl announced, gaze moving between First Aid and Mirage. “I will leave Jazz here to assist you in anyway you may need.”

“And to guard us?” Mirage replied with a frown.

Prowl sharply focused on Mirage. “It's in everyone’s best interest.” He then gestured to Trailbreaker, Hound and Ironhide to follow him out.

First Aid quickly reached out to touch Trailbreaker's wrist to stop him. “Happy you okay.”

Trailbreaker smiled, then pulled away from First Aid, hastily leaving the medbay under Prowl’s watchful optics.

“Your translation program is atrocious,” Mirage commented.

“Better than nothing,” First Aid replied. Primus he hated the elite class mechs. They were all so _annoying_ in his limited experience. This one seemed no different.

“Tell me about this mech,” Ratchet asked, looking over Optimus’ prone form.

“First tell me you got some energon around here,” Sideswipe said, hand over his fuel tank area.

“I do. There's a container in that back room with some raw energon,” First Aid replied. Sideswipe wasted no time, going into the back room.

“The place we can, uh, _use_ later?” Sunstreaker asked peering around the doorway.

“The very same,” First Aid replied.

Sideswipe emerged with the container, holding it out to his brother.

Sunstreaker reached inside broke off a piece, shoving it at Ratchet. “Take it.”

Ratchet grumbled, then started to cough.

“Your coughing is worse?” First Aid asked, suddenly concerned.

“He's a mess. That Ironhide mech had to carry him,” Mirage piped up. “And by the way, I'm the one suffering the effects of energon deprivation and I can't eat that solid slag.”

First Aid huffed, then went to the berth he'd organized his supplies on. He picked up one of the remaining medical rations and walked over to Mirage holding it out and frowning.

“Oh good.” Mirage took it, biting the corner and sucking down the fuel.

“Do you have no manners at all?” First Aid asked. “Would a ‘thank you’ be that difficult to say?”

“Not worth it,” Ratchet said, after swallowing the piece he'd been chewing. “He's been a pain like this since we all got chained up together.”

“Something wrong?” Jazz suddenly asked in wildland dialect, noticing the raised voices and First Aid appearing distressed.

“This little Vector Sigma mech is overly sensitive,” Mirage replied.

Jazz looked confused. “Vec-dor Sigi-ma?”

“He rich snob,” First Aid explained as best he could to Jazz. “And just because I'm a Vector Sigma mech doesn't mean you get to treat me like I'm less than you!” He said to Mirage in their own language.

Mirage was about to say something else, but saw both twins and Ratchet glaring at him and snapped his mouth closed. He huffed, then looked at First Aid. “My apologies.”

Ratchet walked over to Mirage, and held out a hand. “You can start making amends by letting First Aid download your translation program. Let me see your hardline uplink.”

Reluctantly, Mirage placed his wrist in Ratchet’s hand, and the cover for his hardline uplink retracted.

Ratchet glanced at First Aid. “You go first. You know these mechs better than we do.”

Sitting down on the berth beside Mirage, First Aid offered his own arm, retracting the cover for the hardline port. “How do you have such a robust translation program anyway?” He asked as Ratchet connected them.

“It was part of my mission. The company that hired us required we have it installed.” Mirage frowned. “In retrospect, I don't think they expected us to return.”

“What about the others from your scouting group?” Ratchet asked.

Mirage shrugged. “Dead, probably.”

First Aid dimmed his optics, uninstalling the other program while the new one uploaded. He vaguely poked at the thick fire falling Mirage had, finding the high level of security curious. Perhaps all elites sported that level of fire walling? He'd only ever practiced hardline linking with Ratchet, so he couldn't be sure if it was unusual or not.

‘Ready?’ Mirage silently spoke through the link.

‘Yes.’ First Aid felt the code of the program begin to transfer. He stored it in a safe location in his memory core to test before installing.

‘You're different than other Vector Sigma mechs,’ Mirage commented.

Looking up, First Aid pressed his lips together tightly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You're just different. The few I've met have been weird and distant. Don't get me wrong, you're certainly odd but not in a bad way,’ Mirage tried to explain.

‘If that was a compliment it's in dire need of improvement,’ First Aid replied.

Mirage genuinely laughed.

Ratchet raised at optic ridge at him, looking unsure if he should be concerned about having his protégé hooked up to this elite or not.

“I rather like you, First Aid,” Mirage said aloud.

First Aid simply looked confused in response. This particular elite was different than the handful he'd met in Kaon. He was still rude and entitled, but he was also willing to reform his opinions and listen. Despite the thick firewalls, First Aid caught flashes of emotion from Mirage; ill at ease and unsure of himself around them.

After several minutes, the program finished downloading, and First Aid glanced at Ratchet. “It's done.”

Ratchet nodded as he unhooked the lines, then plugged it into his own to also download. “Share it with one of the twins. The sooner we’re able to communicate, the better.”

First Aid firmly nodded, and got up. He assumed Ratchet wanted to talk with the wildland mechs in order to plan a way to return to Kaon and Iacon. But First Aid was simply looking forward to being able to talk to Trailbreaker for real. Not just in choppy words or using body language. Tell him how much he appreciated everything Trailbreaker tried to do for him.

…

First Aid seemed okay, that was all that really mattered. Or least that's what Trailbreaker tried to tell himself as he shuffled around his workshop organizing projects. He had some partly assembled spare hip armor sets he wanted to finish for the newcomers. They shouldn't wander around uncovered in the village.

Unlike First Aid’s set, he didn't worry about decorating these with ornate etching. The new mechs simply needed something functional. He paused and rubbed his chin as he gazed at the four partly finished sets he'd pulled out. “Ratchet is a healer, too. I should probably make him a nicer piece of armor,” he said to himself, despite the twinge of jealousy he felt.

He heavily sighed. First Aid was sacred. Off limits already, so he really shouldn't be jealous of whatever relationship he had with Ratchet.

“Make who a nicer set?”

Trailbreaker glanced at the doorway, seeing Hound. “The new healer.”

“As long as they aren't walking around naked, that's all that matters. I don't think the new healer needs another beautiful set of hip armor like what you made First Aid,” Hound replied, entering the workshop.

“I'm sure First Aid would prefer his–” Trailbreaker paused, unsure what to refer to Ratchet as. “Intended, I suppose, be in similar armor.”

“ _Intended_?” Hound shook his head. “What makes you think that?”

“First Aid mentioned him several times, wanting to return to him,” Trailbreaker replied.

“Ratchet seems kinda old for him. Maybe he's First Aid’s creator?” Hound suggested.

“They are much too close in age,” Trailbreaker replied.

“I dunno. I didn't get the impression it was that kind of relationship,” Hound said with a shrug of a shoulder.

“Either way, Ratchet is a healer. He deserves to be treated as sacred.” Trailbreaker picked up the center panel for a set of hip armor made in red and walked over to his desk with etching fluid.

Hound followed him over, leaning on a nearby table. “We were going to talk when you returned.”

Trailbreaker focused on setting up his work area. “I'm not sure I'm in the best state of mind to talk about us right now.”

“Then let's talk about First Aid,” Hound replied.

Looking up, Trailbreaker frowned.

“I looked after him while you were gone. He stayed with me in the berth bedding I had for Bluestreak the last few days. He asked about you a lot. I think he was worried you'd get hurt out there, and that it was because of him you were sent away.” Hound paused, holding Trailbreaker’s gaze. “And I was completely wrong.”

“Wrong?” Trailbreaker asked.

“I know you better than most. But it's pretty clear to everyone you have a big spark. You love easily.” Hound held up his hands to stop Trailbreaker from interrupting him. “There's _nothing_ wrong with that. If anything mechs like me who don't form deep attachments are the ones with issues.” He stepped forward, putting a hand on Trailbreaker's forearm. “I'm sorry for hurting you. For doubting you. And I was never good enough for you. In the week I've spent with First Aid, I see it. I see what you see in him. And I couldn't invent anyone more perfect for you.”

Trailbreaker was near tears, grateful his visor hid his optics. “Perfect or not. No matter how I feel, he's sacred. He can't be defiled.”

“Frag that. Love is love. Prowl gets to bond with Jazz despite being from the same group. One of our rules is to bond to an outsider unless permission is granted by Optimus. He didn't grant them permission. He's fragging unconscious,” Hound replied. “Follow your spark. I'll back you up.”

Trailbreaker turned his hand over, grasping Hound’s and lacing their fingers together. “Thank you for saying that, but so long as Prowl is in charge, I'll never get close to First Aid again.”

Hound grinned. “Well, funny you say that. I have a plan to get you two some time alone together.”

“A plan?” Trailbreaker had already angered Prowl enough to get sent away. He didn't want to make things even worse.

“Trust me,” Hound replied with confidence.

He smiled a little, remembering why he'd fallen for Hound in the first place. “I always trust you.”

…

“This way,” Prowl said, leading everyone from the healer cavern.

Ratchet and First Aid were at the front of the group. The twins walked with Mirage, helping him hobble along. Ironhide brought up the rear, making sure they didn't try to do anything they shouldn't.

At the doorway to a room, Prowl lifted the fabric covering and hooked it up to the top to allow them easy access.

Hound came jogging down toward them, hip armor sets in hand.

“You're _just_ on time,” Prowl commented.

Hound frowned a little.

They all went inside.

“Wait, there's not enough places for everyone to recharge,” Mirage said, counting four ‘wildland’ berths, which were nothing more than a pile of blankets and pillows.

Sideswipe sat down in one of the blanket nests, gesturing to Sunstreaker to join him. They barely fit in one of these berths, but they'd cuddle closer and make it work so everyone has a place to recharge. They were already feeling much better after having some alone time, and preferred being physically close right after a merge anyway.

“You aren't staying here,” Prowl said, glancing at Mirage. “First Aid, Ratchet, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe will be in here.”

“Then where the frag am I staying? You better not say that ‘healing cavern’ with that unconscious mech there. I refuse to recharge that close to someone so ill,” Mirage replied.

Hound handed out the armor sets. He got to Mirage just as he finished complaining. “You're staying with me.” He held out the steel-grey hip armor. “And this is for you to wear.”

Mirage scowled at Hound. “I'm not putting that on.”

“You'd rather run around naked?” Hound asked.

Ratchet put his on, only then noticing the etching on the front panel. “What does this mean?”

“Oh, it's like mine.” First Aid pointed to his armor and the intricate etching on the front.

“Why do they get customized armor?” Mirage asked. “And you're handing me that plain set?”

“They're sacred. They heal. Either you wear the armor or you won't be allowed to leave Hound’s quarters at all. Last thing I need is for you to wander around the village exposing yourself,” Prowl replied in a stern tone.

“And _why_ are you separating me from everyone? Making me stay with _him_?” Mirage asked. “I don't know this mech!”

“I have extra space and a pot for distilling energon. I was told you can't process raw energon, right? Just made more sense for you stay with me instead,” Hound explained.

“I can understand them already. Just phrases, but still,” Sideswipe whispered to Ratchet.

“Me too,” Ratchet quietly replied.

Hound helped Mirage put the armor on, much to the elite’s annoyance.

First Aid could fully understand them and he found the new program had integrated what the old program had helped his processor define. “I stayed with Hound over the last few days. His place nice and cozy.”

Prowl, Hound and Ironhide all looked at First Aid with bright optics.

“You can speak and fully understand us now?” Prowl asked.

“Yeah, I guess so. That program Mirage shared is really great,” First Aid replied.

Prowl walked up to First Aid, holding his gaze. “Tell me. Why can't you heal our Prime? What didn't I do or give you to help your healing power be strong enough?”

First Aid sadly smiled. “It doesn't work like that. His ability to self heal is broken. He needs something called _nanites_ added to his body to help him get better.”

Prowl gaze intensified. “Where do I get the nan-in-ites?”

“Nanites,” First Aid gently corrected. “His injury was so severe that his body depleted his own reserves of them. They are part of auto repair systems, and the only way to help him is to get more from a matching donor.”

“I don't understand. What does that mean? Can we each give some of ours will that help?” Prowl asked.

“Primus, you mechs are clueless. You need someone who has the same energy signature to donate some of theirs,” Mirage explained in an exasperated tone.

Prowl shot Mirage a pointed glare, then looked back at First Aid. “How do we figure out who matches Optimus?”

“I doubt anyone here does. He's from another tribe so the only potential matches will be one of those mechs,” First Aid explained.

Sensor panels lowering, Prowl shook his head. “We need him back.”

“Programmable nanites,” Ratchet piped up. “They'd work, too.”

The wildland mechs were left in awe at how fast their new guests had learned to communicate.

“I read in Alpha Trion’s journals that there were a tribe of healers? Perhaps they have what we need to heal him?” First Aid offered as a solution.

“Perhaps. They are several days travel from here... I need time to think.” Prowl then straightened his posture, sensor panels lifting to a neutral position again. “Hound, please escort Mirage to your quarters. Ironhide, you'll be on first watch. Jazz will relieve you in a few hours.”

“Who's gonna chaperone you?” Ironhide asked.

“Smokescreen said he could. I'd rather you be here with them as they settle in, having already traveled with them,” Prowl replied.

“Alright. Sounds good,” Ironhide said with an assured nod.

Hound led Mirage out, and Prowl followed. Ironhide stepped out, then unhooked the fabric covering to give them privacy.

“Prowl called that warrior down there a Prime,” Ratchet said, switching back to their native language. “That mech _found_ the matrix that's inside his chest?”

“Yeah, pretty sure. I haven't finished reading Alpha Trion’s journals, but from what I have read, Optimus is special,” First Aid replied.

“What's the big deal about finding an old relic, though?” Sunstreaker asked. “What's that got to do with him being all half-dead?”

“If it called to him, then he's a true Prime. That means he's a direct spark descendant of Primus. That in turn means a programmable nanite infusion will be useless. They can't mimic that powerful of an energy signature.” Ratchet heaved a sigh, then lowered himself to sit on an open berth.

“Then we find another Prime,” First Aid replied.

“Are you crazy? We can't go to Sentinel and be like ‘hey, we need your nanites to save a mech in the wildland’,” Sideswipe said, waving his hands around to exaggerate his point.

“Not him.” First Aid moved to an open berth and sat down. “Optimus is from another tribe. Maybe there's another Prime in that tribe...” He trailed off and rubbed his chin.

“But?” Ratchet asked, knowing First Aid well enough to read the implication of more to the story.

“Well, thing is, he doesn't remember anything before he woke up with these mechs.” First Aid ducked his head, sheepishly smiling. “Alpha Trion described an injury to the base of helm that affected his memory core.”

Ratchet rubbed his face with both hands for a moment. “Then we have no choice. Let's see if we can get some programmable nanites and hope for the best.”

“I say we ditch these crazy mechs. We have First Aid, now. Go back to the cities,” Sunstreaker replied.

Ratchet shook his head. “There is a mech down there in dire need of help. I can't walk away from that.”

First Aid nodded in agreement. But it was about more than that for him. He didn't want to leave these mechs he'd helped take care of. Gotten to know. These were his first real friends he'd ever made. Plus, the idea of leaving without getting to talk with Trailbreaker again made his spark hurt.

“Let's just get some rest. We can try to figure out something in the morning,” Ratchet said, settling back in the blankets.

First Aid did the same, dimming his optics. Maybe tomorrow they'd come up with a better solution.

…

First Aid was startled awake by a hand over his mouth. He lit his optics behind his visor, and focused on another set of optics behind a visor staring at him.

Jazz pressed a finger to his lips. “Don't wanna wake your friends up. So be quiet, ‘kay?”

Nodding, First Aid tried to work out what was going on.

“I'm takin’ you up to see ‘Breaker. So let's sneak outta here as silent-like as possible.” Jazz removed his hand, then got to his feet and offered First Aid a hand up.

Taking hold, First Aid got to his feet. He glanced at the others, who were all deeply recharging. This was probably the first night of real rest they'd had in a long while.

They silently left of the room and Jazz led him up the winding ramp.

The next level up, Jazz stopped at a doorway. He flashed First Aid a grin, then flipped up the blanket covering the doorway. Just inside sat Trailbreaker at a floor-level table. He glanced from a tiny sculpture he was working on and shyly smiled.

“You got about an hour. Then I gotta take you back,” Jazz said in a hushed voice.

Thrilled, First Aid nodded and entered. The blanket door covering dropped, and he stood awkwardly staring at the tiny shelves that lined the walls completely covered in small handmade sculptures.

“Would you like to sit?” Trailbreaker asked.

“Oh, yes. I didn't mean to be rude.” First Aid stepped forward, then sat down at the table opposite Trailbreaker.

“You speak fluently now?” Trailbreaker asked.

“Mirage shared his translation program. It works really well.” First Aid nervously wrung his hands in his lap. “I'm relieved you’re okay. I was worried. It's so dangerous out there.”

“I was careful.” Trailbreaker fiddled with his carving tool. “I'm glad you seem okay, too. Hound took good care of you?”

“He was very kind to me,” First Aid confirmed. “Jazz, too.”

Smiling at that, Trailbreaker nodded. “They're my best friends.”

“I don't like that Prowl mech, though,” First Aid said with a frown. “Locking me up and yelling at me. That's no way to treat anyone.”

Trailbreaker shook his head. “Prowl is under tremendous pressure. I'm not saying what he did was okay, but I know he thought he did what was necessary.”

“It means a lot that you tried to help me,” First Aid replied.

“You saved my life. It was the least I could do,” Trailbreaker replied.

They both shyly looked away from one another. An awkward silence filled the air around them for several long seconds.

“Can I ask you a question?” First Aid finally said.

“Of course.” Trailbreaker gestured for him to go ahead and ask.

“Why do you all refer to me and Ratchet as sacred? You even made him nicer armor like mine.” First Aid fingered the etching on the centerpiece of his hip armor as he spoke.

“It's not as well-made as yours,” Trailbreaker said with a regretful frown. “You're both sacred because you have the ability to heal and restore life.”

“But, why does that mean I'm not allowed to be friends with you?” First Aid asked.

Trailbreaker lowered his head. “Because my feelings for you are stronger than appropriate. And I'm not of equal standing. The only sort of mech allowed to be with you is one of your status, like another healer.”

 _With?_ First Aid wondered if he was properly understanding what was being translated. “What do mean by using the word ‘with’?”

Looking up at First Aid, Trailbreaker dimmed his optics behind his visor. “Like how you're _with_ Ratchet? As in being in a relationship?”

Understanding, First Aid began to laugh. The idea of him and Ratchet ever being intimate was completely ridiculous.

“Why are you laughing at me?” Trailbreaker asked, looking mortified.

First Aid got his giggles under control and shook his head. “I'm not laughing at you. I'm sorry. You have the wrong idea about who Ratchet is to me.” He reached across the table, placing his hand on Trailbreaker's. “Ratchet is my mentor. He's taught me how to be the best healer I can be. He's more like a creator to me than anything else.”

Trailbreaker stared at him for a moment, then turned his hand to cup First Aid’s. “How I feel about you, it breaks all our rules.”

Confused, First Aid shook his head. “How you feel? How can your feelings be something that breaks a rule?”

“Because, like I said, I'm not of your status,” Trailbreaker replied.

That's when First Aid finally put it all together in his mind; the punishment from Prowl for seeing him in secret, the scolding from Jazz when he tried to physically comfort him, the idea that First Aid was off limits… “You're attracted to me?”

Trailbreaker squeezed First Aid’s hand. “You're beautiful. You saved my life. I saw something I can't explain when I locked us inside my forcefield and looked into your optics behind your visor. I felt it all the way inside my spark.”

The idea of more than friendship hadn't crossed First Aid’s mind, but he'd been feeling things he couldn't explain either. A strong desire to be near this mech...

“Say something? Please?” Trailbreaker asked, looking concerned about First Aid’s lack of response.

“Me, too.” First Aid nodded slowly. “I feel something special for you.”

Trailbreaker went from looking worried to overjoyed. He leaned over the table and with his free hand cupped First Aid’s cheek. Pressing their forehelms together, he grinned. “I need permission of the Prime to bypass the rule, but know I'll ask him as soon as possible to be allowed to openly court you.”

First Aid felt his faceplates heat. He'd never in a million eons imagined anyone would say something like that to him. After all he was a Vector Sigma mech.

Trailbreaker tipped his head, and brushed his lips over First Aid’s. Stiffening, his optics got bright. _Is he going to kiss me?_ His answer came only a moment later when their mouths met in a sweet kiss. First Aid panicked at first, having never been prepared for anything like this. He mirrored what Trailbreaker did, lips pressed solidly together before breaking the moment of contact. It was short, but impactful. First Aid’s lips were left literally tingling in the aftermath.

Trailbreaker let his hand lower from holding First Aid’s cheek, and he sat back, all smiles.

Covering his mouth with his free hand, First Aid trembled slightly.

“Are you alright?” Trailbreaker asked. “Should I have not kissed you so soon? I didn't even think to ask about how you court in your tribal group.”

First Aid stared at Trailbreaker in awe. “That was my first kiss.”

Surprised, Trailbreaker canted his head. “You never practiced as a youngling?”

Optics brightening, First Aid realized he needed to explain to Trailbreaker what he was. He lowered his hand and shyly smiled. “I'm not like you that way. I'm—”

The cloth lifted. “First Aid, we gotta get you back. Prowl’s already up. I just saw ‘im going down to get energon. I gotta sneak you back to your room, before he comes back up.”

First Aid looked back at Trailbreaker, squeezed his hand, then let go and got to his feet. “Maybe another night we can chat again.”

“Of course, I'd like that,” Trailbreaker replied.

Jazz whisked First Aid away with a regretful frown.

Quickly making their way back down, First Aid covered his mouth again. His very first kiss… it had been amazing.

 


	13. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has choices to make, or choices to stand by.

Mirage pushed the blankets around, moved the pillows, and tried another position. He was finding the armor uncomfortable to recharge with while wearing. In the darkness, he saw Hound’s optics light.

“Can't rest?” Hound asked.

“I don't know how you stand wearing this armor all the time,” Mirage replied. He didn't understand the point of it. After all, their interface equipment was stored beneath their Primus-given armor. Why add another layer?

“I've always worn it unless I'm, you know, _with_ someone,” Hound replied. “But if you rather recharge without, I don't mind.”

“Like getting an optic-full of me, hm?” Mirage responded.

“First off it's dark in here. And to be perfectly honest, your lighter build is much more revealing than your comrades’, so it's important you wear it outside my room,” Hound replied. “But I'll be completely respectful. I won't look.”

“They aren't my comrades,” Mirage grumbled, unhooking the infernal armor and tossing it to the ground beside the blankets. He sighed. “Much better.”

“I thought you were with the others. You're not from their same area?” Hound asked.

“I'm from the same city. But I don't know them. There are too many mechs in Iacon to know them all,” Mirage explained, pulling a blanket over himself.

“Wow. Must be a lot then,” Hound replied, sounding fascinated.

Mirage glanced at Hound through the darkness. “I'm not used to all this _friendliness_.”

“That's pretty obvious,” Hound replied, chuckling. “Is it so bad? Having support around you?”

Turning to his side to face Hound, he softly sighed. “I just don't know how to be around all of you.” He frowned, optics dimming. “I'm from an elite sparkline. My family has a special spark signature, so we’re allowed to have sparklings. The price of that privilege is being raised by government appointed mechs to be sure each sparkling is taught well, and that their abilities are identified early. Our lives are mapped out when we're barely younglings. No time for playing, socializing, that sort of thing.”

“You must have been so lonely,” Hound said in a saddened voice.

“I suppose I was. But that's how things are there,” Mirage replied.

“That's not how things are now,” Hound said. “You have a chance to not be lonely. Make friends here.”

Mirage curled in on himself. He almost had enough strength in his legs to attempt escaping and return to Iacon. No one here knew about his invisibility cloak, so it should be a simple task to slip past them. As much as he wanted to get away from these mechs at first, he’d begun to doubt his desire to flee. After all, what would he return to? More life of solitude until his family picked a bondmate for him to start creating sparklings he didn't really want?

“Mirage? You alright?” Hound asked.

“I'm fine. Tired. We should recharge,” Mirage tersely replied, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

“Rest well, then,” Hound replied.

A lifetime of being told he was only created to keep his sparkline going, and knowing how his life would be played out from such a young age made anything else practically unfathomable. But now, here with these mechs, a different path had been opened up. He could run. A large part of him wanted to. After all, he was selfish and no good for these kind-sparked mechs. The other part wanted to stay. Learn how to trust more, have a life he chose for himself.

Which path should he take?

…

“The healing tribe is almost four days’ travel from here,” Prowl said with a frown.

“It's not through hostile territory at least,” Ironhide replied. “And if anyone has what our healers are askin’ for, it'll be them.”

Ironhide and Prowl stood just outside the healing cavern, looking in. Ratchet and First Aid were cleaning Optimus’ prone form with the utmost care.

Prowl shook his head. “It's been vorns upon vorns since we last went to them. What makes you so sure they're even located in the lower caves of the Manganese Mountains still?”

Ironhide sighed. “I don't. But we gotta do somethin’. We got two healers tellin’ us what we need but don't have. Let's at least try?”

“Let me sit down and work out the best tactical plan for an effective and speedy trip down there and back,” Prowl replied.

Ironhide slapped his upper arm and smiled. “I got a good feelin’ about all this.”

Prowl wished he did, too. But he had a nagging feeling that those healers were long gone.

…

Hound walked back up the ramp toward his quarters with his energon container refilled. He’d found Mirage both obnoxious and intriguing so far. Clearly a mech unsure of who he was or wanted in life. A personal struggle Hound could definitely relate to.

Mirage had still been recharging when he left, and he planned to distill some energon before rousing him.

Lifting the fabric covering, Hound stopped misstep. Mirage’s berth was empty. His hip armor right where he'd left it on the ground the night before. “Frag,” Hound said. “Mirage?” He stepped inside, set his container down on the table and looked around his quarters for any signs of his wayward guest.

The blankets were put back neatly where Mirage had recharged. Hound also noticed items in front of his wall map carefully moved aside. Staring up at the map, Hound wondered what might have intrigued Mirage about it. His gaze then landed on the newly marked area of Iacon next to Kaon First Aid had pointed out.

Instantly, Hound had a hunch where Mirage had gone. He picked up the armor and dashed out of his quarters up the ramp. Reaching the top level, he veered down the long corridor that led to the lift to take them above ground. Hardly anyone came up here unless they were going on a mission. All was quiet, but he was sure this would be where Mirage intended to go.

Slowing his steps, Hound walked silently toward where the hand-reading locks were located, optics scanning every micrometer of the area.

“Fraggit! Work you piece of scrap!”

Hound’s optics brightened as he tried to visually locate the voice. He saw no one, but without a doubt he'd heard Mirage.

The hand-reading lock cycled on. “There, now work!”

Mirage was there but not there. How was this possible? Stepping forward, Hound approached the locks.

“Why won't it lower down?” Mirage asked, exasperated.

“You need two different hands to touch the readers,” Hound replied to the thin air around him.

Suddenly, Mirage shimmered into view while whirling around in front of the locks. “How did you know I was here!”

Optics wide and bright, Hound stared at Mirage. “You can disappear? _How_?”

“I asked first!” Mirage snapped.

“Huh?” Hound was too astounded to register what Mirage asked.

“There's no way you saw me leave! How did you find me so fast?” Mirage demanded.

“I'm a tracker?” Hound replied. He did his best not to stare, but he couldn't help letting his gaze take in the full view of Mirage’s elegant frame. “Saw you moved things near my map right where your home was marked.”

“That map has gibberish written all over it,” Mirage replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Pretty obvious the nearby marked cities are your home, though. Whether you can read our written language or not.” Hound hugged the armor to his chest. “You want to go back, right?”

“Of course I do!” Mirage replied.

Hound moved to stand next to Mirage, lowering his hand to hover above the hand-lock pad. “I'll help you leave if you want.”

Mirage frowned. “Why would help me?”

“You're unhappy here. You should be where you'll be happiest,” Hound replied. “Do you have liquid energon to take for your trip?”

Scoffing, Mirage gestured to his body. “Do I look like I have any on me?”

“I can make you some to take, if you want,” Hound offered.

Mirage pulled his hand off the hand-lock pad. Shaking his head, he heavily sighed. “When I left Iacon, I had a specialized supply pack that I could wear for both my current mode and my vehicle mode. I had energon concentrated into bite-sized gels that fueled me for a whole day. I could reach top speed most mechs only dream of, and it _still_ took me a week to get out here.”

Hound glanced at Mirage. “Then how will you make it back alone without all those things?”

“That's the point,” Mirage replied, expression darkening. “I have no intention of surviving out there. I should have died already like the other mechs from my team.”

Angry anyone would just throw their lives away, Hound shoved Mirage hard, sending him scuffling sideways. “Life is precious! How dare you throw yours away!”

“My life isn't mine!” Mirage countered. “I was created by mechs that didn't want a sparkling in the first place! Just so I can do this!” Mirage shimmered out of view again. “And if I make it back to Iacon, I'll be forced to the same one day, having a sparking against my will and then watch it ripped out my arms to be raised by the government. I don't want that life!”

“Then don't live that life!” Hound responded, optics darting all over the empty area. “Stay here with us. You'll be welcomed. Cared for. You'll never be forced into creation.”

“Instead, I have to wear stupid armor. Go on dangerous trips into areas filled with those filthy flying mechs. Eventually get captured again and put in a cage to slowly rot away from lack of fuel? Sounds like a great life,” Mirage said sarcastically.

Hound dimmed his optics. “They hurt you? The Vosian Deceptions?”

Mirage reappeared, arms hugging his own frame. “One member of my team was taken to become a frag toy by their leader. The other forced to be a translator on a trip, but he never returned.”

“And you?” Hound asked.

Lowering his gaze to the floor, he frowned deeply. “I was kept in a cage, too weak to fight when various filthy fliers would take me out and use me for their perverted pleasure.”

The desire to die made more sense to Hound, and his spark ached for this mech. “I'd like to ask something of you.”

“What?” Mirage replied, scowling.

“Trust me. If you chose not to trust anyone else here, that's fine, but trust _me_. I promise not to let you down if you do,” Hound replied.

“You're quite the comedian.” Mirage hugged himself tighter. “I've never trusted _anyone_.”

“I can tell.” Hound held Mirage’s gaze. “I won't let you down. I'll protect you from whatever you feel threatens you. I'll even go with you if you want to make the trip back to your home.”

Mirage looked unsure. “Why would you want to burden yourself with me?”

“It's no burden. You need time to heal. Time to learn that you have worth aside from your disappearing magic,” Hound replied.

“It's called an invisibility cloak,” Mirage corrected.

Hound held out his hand. “Come back down to my quarters. Let me make you some distilled energon.”

“I don't want to wear that stupid armor,” Mirage replied.

Hound tossed the hip armor to the ground, and re-offered his hand.

“Won't that Praxian mech lock me up for not wearing it?” Mirage asked.

“Don't worry about Prowl. I said I'd protect you, even from him,” Hound replied. Truth was, Prowl could easily punish him, send him away like he did with Trailbreaker, but Hound had a plan to deal with that if it happened. Earning Mirage’s trust was more important for the moment.

Mirage reached out, taking hold of Hound’s hand. “You do realize you may regret this.”

Hound gently squeezed Mirage’s hand. “I doubt that.”

…

Ratchet and First Aid left the twins in their temporary room to have _alone_ time and came down to the old medbay to see what if anything could be done for Optimus. It hadn't escaped Ratchet’s attention how oddly First Aid was behaving as they worked together to give Optimus a deep cleaning.

First Aid looked like he was a million miles away. Not his usual asking a million questions and chatty self.

“You okay?” Ratchet asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yup,” First Aid replied, carefully removing gunk from between Optimus’ fingers.

Maybe he needed to try a more direct approach. “You seem distracted,” Ratchet responded.

First Aid looked up, visor bright. “Oh, ah, yeah. I guess I am.”

“You sure you're okay?” Ratchet asked again.

First Aid shyly smiled and averted his gaze. “You told me before I left not to get involved with anyone… was that because I'm a Vector Sigma mech?”

“No. It was because mechs on those expeditions tend to abuse the trust of the less experienced mechs,” Ratchet replied.

“So I'm naive?” First Aid asked.

Bless his spark, he wasn't even offended if that had been what Ratchet meant. “No, no. You're young, not the same as naive. Just didn't want you getting involved with any of those mechs. You deserve better.”

First Aid looked pensive for a moment. “What if I felt something for one of the wildland mechs?”

“ _What if?_ ” Ratchet raised an optic ridge. “Okay, spill it. What's going on?”

Sagging where he sat, First Aid quickly glanced at Prowl who was busily talking with Ironhide a good distance away. “I think I might be in love with one of them. Last night, while you all were recharging, I was taken to see him. We chatted and he said he wanted to ‘court’ me. Then we kissed.” First Aid covered his mouth for a moment, remembering how it felt. “But I'm worried.” He frowned. “Prowl doesn't want us near each other. Plus, I didn't get a chance to tell him I wasn't created the same way as he was.”

Ratchet stared at First Aid with bright optics. He'd suspected First Aid might have fooled around a little out of curiosity. Not _fallen_ for one of the wildland mechs.

“Was it wrong to kiss him?” First Aid asked, confused by Ratchet’s lack of response.

Ratchet shook his head and half-smiled. “Nope. Just wasn't expecting you to be ready for all this yet.”

“I don’t know if I am ready, but my spark feels light and happy when I do get to see him,” First Aid replied with a huge smile.

This was more than a crush… “So which of these mechs is it?” Ratchet asked. If he felt the mech First Aid chose wasn't good enough, he'd have to stop this before it went any further.

First Aid leaned forward over Optimus’ prone form then whispered. “Trailbreaker. The big black one.”

Of course First Aid would pick the mech with a spark as kind as his own. “He's a really good mech. If not for him, Mirage wouldn’t have survived.”

“He's been the nicest out of all of them toward me,” First Aid replied.

“You’ve got a few things to consider,” Ratchet said, taking on his mentor role and tone.

“Like what?” First Aid asked.

Prowl looked in their direction, so Ratchet resumed cleaning. First Aid did the same before they continued to chat in their own language.

“Bigger picture, is this more than a casual thing? If so, does that mean you want to stay here with these mechs?” Ratchet asked.

“I hadn't thought that far ahead,” First Aid replied with a small frown.

“And telling him your origin is important. It may not go over well with him, so be prepared.” Ratchet paused cleaning, looking First Aid right in the visor. “That is no reflection on you, though. Don't ever be ashamed of who you are or how you came into this world.”

First Aid warmly smiled at Ratchet. “I know.”

“Give the whole ‘what if things do work out’ part some serious thought. If this is a place you could live, that kind of thing,” Ratchet added, resuming cleaning.

First Aid nodded slowly.

They both cleaned in silence for a while. Ratchet slid back into his own thoughts, hoping he'd taught First Aid enough to make good decisions. Having First Aid to care for was a lot different than raising Sunstreaker and Sideswipe from sparklings. With the twins he had time on his side. Development for First Aid had happened so much faster than he expected.

“What about you?” First Aid suddenly asked. “If I stayed, would you stay?”

Ratchet glanced up, genuinely surprised by the question. “I don't know. Would you want me to?”

“I'm not done learning from you, yet.” First Aid sadly frowned. “Maybe we should go back so you can finish teaching me and upgrading my software.”

“I can teach you here. Software upgrades can be done here, too. Besides, the air here is a lot cleaner. My coughing is already better.” Ratchet half-smiled. “I suppose I'd stay if you wanted me to.”

First Aid looked surprised but happy. “What about the twins? I don’t think they like it here, but I doubt they’d leave you, either.”

“We can ask,” Ratchet replied.

First Aid nodded in agreement as finished cleaning Optimus’ fingers and moved up his arm. “For a mech created by a relic, I'm lucky I have family.”

“I'm the lucky one.” Ratchet gazed at First Aid for a moment, feeling a creator’s level of pride. He never imagined a mech slated for extermination would alter his own life this much.

…

Sunstreaker sighed contentedly, hugging Sideswipe close. They’d only gotten to spark merge in the back room of the medbay. Now they could do more than realign sparks.

“They’re both gone?” Sideswipe said, optics dimly lighting as he groggily looked around.

“Yep. Let us have the room to ourselves,” Sunstreaker replied.

“Still a guard on the door,” Sideswipe said, huffing.

Turning his head, Sunstreaker saw the outlines of two black feet. “So it seems.”

“I say we ‘face as loud as possible to make them uncomfortable.” Sideswipe rolled overtop of Sunstreaker, and wriggled his hips.

Laughing, Sunstreaker swatted his aft playfully. Bonded by creation, brothers and lovers. They were all the other ever needed. Ratchet taught them all about what they were and how their deep connection and physical relationship was normal after they reached adulthood. But being so rare, they still hid away this side of their lives back in Iacon. In the wildlands, surrounded by mechs that didn’t know them, though, they felt safe being more open. It felt freeing.

‘Spread ‘em sexy,’ Sideswipe silently said over their bond while playfully mouthing Sunstreaker’s neck.

Squeezing his brother tightly, Sunstreaker happily complied, sandwiching Sideswipe’s hips between his thighs. Grinding their bodies together, both their sparks pulsed hard as desire wove through their bond. Their mouths met in a deep kiss, glossae tangled between their linked lips. After a merge, everything between them felt so much more intense. Every touch, every kiss…

Unable to help himself, Sunstreaker moaned into the kiss, panel opening for his brother. Sideswipe broke the kiss with a gasp and whine of want.

Kissing down Sunstreaker’s neck, Sideswipe opened his panel, too. Their bodies pressed together, spikes rubbing against one another between their abdomens.

Turning his head to give Sideswipe better access, Sunstreaker locked gazes with the small black and white mech they called Jazz. Their guard had pulled up the edge of the door covering to peer inside.

“This isn’t a public show,” Sunstreaker half growled, arms stilling his brother.

Jazz sheepishly smiled. “Thought you might be in trouble or somethin’.”

“Frag off, half-size!” Sideswipe snapped.

“Sorry! Been a while for me. You two are a sight together.” Jazz shrugged, and resecured the door blanket.

Sideswipe looked into his brother’s optics. “Let’s be _really_ loud. What do you say?”

“Make me scream my head off,” Sunstreaker replied with a nefarious grin. 

Jazz stood outside, feeling both embarrassed he’d interrupted, and revved by what he’d seen. He sighed, seeing Prowl at the bottom level walking back from the healer cavern. He missed him so much it hurt down to his very spark. The background sounds of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe continuing only made him ache even more for Prowl. “Two more weeks until we bond,” he murmured to himself. “Just gotta hold on.”


	14. Love Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past isn't as clear cut as it might seem. Why is Prowl so hell bent on saving Optimus? Why did Jazz wait until now to ask Prowl to bond? What happened then, affects them now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha, don't be mad! I'd had this planned for a while...

In the past:

“You're leavin’ again?” Jazz asked, clearly unhappy.

Prowl filled a pouch under his hip armor with pieces of raw energon. “Optimus asked. I can't turn down our Prime.”

“But you're never around anymore. I never get to hang out with you.” Jazz pouted, sitting down on a pillow at the foot of Prowl’s berth as he watched him get ready.

“We can't be like we were before. You know that,” Prowl replied.

“But we’re best friends. Aren't we?”

Prowl cinched the pouch closed, and gazed sadly at Jazz. He had been in his adult upgrades for just about a vorn. He and Jazz were six vorns apart in age, though, making his best friend a youngling still. While being friends was permitted, they were much more than that and Prowl didn't want to risk their potential future due to the urges his adult program upgrade now sent through him when they were physically close.

“We’re best friends. You know all of this is temporary,” Prowl replied.

With a petulant frown, Jazz folded his arms over his chest. “Just admit it. You don't wanna hang out with me anymore.”

Prowl heavily sighed as he lowered himself to sit next to Jazz. He glanced at the doorway of his room, making sure the covering was down, then leaned over and kissed Jazz on the cheek. “I love you. I promised one day my spark would be yours. Just be patient.”

Jazz stared into Prowl’s optics. “This sucks slag. I wanna be an adult with you.”

“It'll come sooner than you think,” Prowl replied, unable to resist touching Jazz. He reached over, gently petting one of his helm horns.

Huffing, Jazz dimmed his optics. “I love you, Prowl. Maybe five vorns isn't that long but it feels like forever. I'm scared you won't want to be with me by the time I catch up.”

“I keep my promises,” Prowl replied.

Jazz stared at Prowl, hope written all over his face, then he moved quickly, smashing their mouths together in a kiss. Prowl reared back, breaking the kiss, his array surging with heat and unwanted desire he still couldn't control. He cupped his mouth with his hand to stop Jazz from trying again, and clumsily got to his feet. “Optimus is waiting. I need to go.”

The look of disappointment on Jazz’s face made his spark ache deeply, but he couldn't stay to try and soothe Jazz. Not without his body having unwanted reactions.

“Don't get hurt. Okay?” Jazz said, getting up.

“I'll be fine,” Prowl replied. “I’ll see you in a week.”

He bolted from his new quarters and walked quickly up the ramp to meet Optimus for their mission. His body still felt funny and his legs were wobbly but it would pass like it usually did. How in the name of Primus would he be able to do this for five more vorns?

...

Prowl hadn't expected the mission to be him and Optimus alone. They walked side by side in a southern direction.

“What exactly is the objective?” Prowl asked.

“Objective?” Optimus replied, glancing at Prowl.

Prowl vaguely frowned. “Well, this is a mission, isn't it? My last four missions were for gathering crystals. The two before that were scavenging for useful metals. So, what is the purpose of this trip?”

Optimus smiled. “Truthfully? To spend time alone with you.”

Prowl came to stop, sensor panels lifting high on his back. “ _What?_ ”

Slowing to a stop a couple paces ahead, Optimus glanced over his shoulder at Prowl. “I need someone I can trust at my side. I've chosen you.”

“Why me? Surely there are older, more experienced mechs to choose from,” Prowl replied. “I'm barely a vorn into my adult upgrades.”

Turning to face Prowl, Optimus held his gaze. “Most of the older mechs are _quite_ a bit older. They are nearing the end of their life cycles. I need someone younger to assist me. Someone bright and sharp. That someone is _you_.”

Stunned, Prowl slowly shook his head. “I'm not worthy of such a position.”

“You’re absolutely worthy.” Optimus placed a hand on Prowl’s shoulder. “Plus, I’ve noticed how often you've volunteered for missions or duties that keep you away from your new quarters. The ultimate distraction will be helping me manage the tribe.”

Prowl’s mind tripped on the term ‘tribe’, a word Optimus used to refer their group. But he quickly set aside his discomfort with the strange word to address what Optimus was implying. “I simply wish to offer my all to our group.”

Stepping closer, Optimus cupped Prowl’s chin with his fingertips. “That is part of it. But I believe it has a lot to do with Jazz.”

Unable to help it, Prowl’s sensor panels trembled.

“I know how hard this is for you both.” Optics dimming, Optimus looked sad. “You cannot interact with him alone any longer. I've had some adults raise their concerns in private.”

Prowl’s face heated, tears welled on the surface of his optics. “He doesn't understand how I feel when he's close. I wish I could get rid of the impure feelings I have.”

Optimus shook his head. “There's nothing impure about feeling desire for someone.” He looked like he wanted to say something more, but then he pressed his lips together tightly.

“But he's a youngling,” Prowl replied in a softened voice, full of regret.

“He is. You are not. But time will move forward, and you will both soon be adults. When that time comes, you'll each decide what path to take. Whether that be together or separately.” Optimus gently swept his thumb over Prowl’s lower lip.

“I _will_ choose him,” Prowl declared.

Smiling at that, Optimus nodded. “Of that, I have little doubt. Perhaps in the meantime, you'll choose another to comfort you. Let them show you that there's nothing impure about desire,” Optimus replied. He then lowered his hand, turned, and resume walking. “We need to reach the caves by nightfall.”

Prowl remained still, staring after Optimus. Had their leader, their _Prime_ , just made a veiled pass at him? After a moment, he shook himself from his stupor and jogged to catch up.

...

They'd reached a series of caves in the side of a large mountainous region just as darkness fell. In silence they set up the crystal light and settled in to eat some raw energon.

Prowl had pondered Optimus’ words the entire afternoon walk. He still wasn't sure how he felt about being physically intimate with someone other than Jazz. Would it be a betrayal of their love? Even if both he and Optimus were aware it would end the moment Jazz was also an adult?

“You'll overheat your processor if you aren't careful,” Optimus said, his smile betraying the teasing nature of comment.

Looking up at Optimus, the image Prowl had long held of him as god-like mech was now crumbling. It went against everything his creators taught him about faith in their Prime. He dropped his gaze to the crystal glowing under the clear dome.

“I've upset you,” Optimus said with a sigh. “I'm sorry I spoke without thinking.”

Prowl quickly shook his head. “You're the Prime. You never have to apologize.”

Optimus chuckled. “May I be honest with you?”

Confused by Optimus finding his reaction humorous, Prowl looked back up at him. “Yes.”

“I understand why the elder mechs in the tribe have chosen to build a system of beliefs around my arrival and finding the matrix, but in truth I'm no more important than anyone else. No different, really.” Optimus suddenly looked sad. “Waking up with practically every memory of my entire life wiped from my mind was hard to cope with. Then just as I felt I was proving myself and becoming part of this tribe, I found the matrix.” He touched his external chest armor with his fingertips. “Just like that, I was isolated all over again from the rest of you.”

“You're lonely...” Prowl said, optics dimming and sensor panels lowering.

“Wouldn't you be?” Optimus sadly smiled.

Prowl nodded slowly, then frowned. “Wait, _practically_ all your memories? Do you remember something from before?” he asked.

“I have two memories still. One is very vague. Images of a place nestled within a mountain range with small free standing buildings dotting the valley,” Optimus replied. “I don't know where it was, but I think it was my home.”

“And the other?” Prowl asked, deeply intrigued.

“That one is very clear. I'm staring at another youngling. He's recently arrived with his relative who is speaking with my creator. I can't look away from him, even though my staring was making him nervous. I remember thinking how beautiful I thought he was and how much I wanted to be his friend.” Optimus’ gaze became unfixed as he revisited the memory for a moment. “I wish I could remember his name. It's on the tip of my glossa every time I relive the memory but it never comes to me.”

Optimus wasn't a god at all. He was a mech trying to find his way through life, the same as the rest of them.

“I sorry,” Prowl replied. “It must be so difficult to not know who you once were.”

“It must also be hard to wait for Jazz,” Optimus said.

Averting his gaze to the crystal again, Prowl nodded.

“Thank you for letting me be myself with you,” Optimus said as he also looked at the glowing crystal. “I'm sorry if I was too forward before. I feel I can trust you, though.”

“You _can_ trust me,” Prowl replied.

They looked at one another.

Optimus warmly smiled. “Let's get some rest. Tomorrow I'll show you a place I think you'll enjoy.”

Shyly nodding, Prowl smiled back. “I look forward to it.”

...

The next day they climbed up one of the mountain peaks. Prowl was intensely curious where they were headed. They didn’t chat too much, focused on navigating the steep terrain.  

Reaching a top ridge, Optimus came to a stop. “Here it is.”

Prowl joined Optimus at his side. His mouth gaped at the beautiful hidden valley below. In the middle was a large lake, surrounded by glittering crystals. “This is incredible.”

“I like to come here once in a while. The water of the lake is full of minerals. It’s very good for our plating. Would you like to go down and wade in the waters with me?” Optimus asked.

Prowl nodded. “Very much.”

They made their way down the slope into the valley section. At the edge of the water, Optimus unhooked his chest armor, lifting it up and off his frame, exposing his chest and upper body.

Prowl quickly looked away. “We’re to remove our armor? After the missions I’ve been on, we wash with it still on…”

“The minerals in the lake wouldn’t be good for our external armor.” Optimus unhooked his hip armor, and removed it. Neatly folding the pieces up, he then walked into the clear water until it was halfway up his chest.

Prowl hesitated, gaze pinned on Optimus. Their Prime was so handsome and strong. He honestly felt honored that Optimus would choose him of all their group to confide in. Making up his mind, Prowl removed his hip armor, setting it down next to Optimus’. He also stepped into the cool water, walking until it reached his neck. The water felt amazing against his sensor panels, and he happily sighed.

“It’s nice, hm?” Optimus said with a huge smile.

“ _Very_ nice.” Prowl let his gaze wander the glittering walls of the slopes around them.

Optimus came closer to Prowl, then stopped about arms-length away. “Have you considered becoming my second in charge of the tribe?”

“The elder mechs would never let me have such a position,” Prowl replied.

“They don’t get to decide. I do,” Optimus said assuredly.

Prowl dimmed his optics, then he nodded. “Yes. I would very much like to be your second.”

Optimus smiled brightly. “Excellent.”

They spent a good hour wading in the water, enjoying themselves and chatting about some of the issues Optimus wanted to address about their underground living. Prowl hadn’t had such a nice relaxing time since his adult upgrades. When they walked out of the lake, Prowl couldn’t help but peek at Optimus as he laid down on the shore.

“We aren’t putting our armor back on?” Prowl asked, unable to tear his gaze away from Optimus’ glistening frame.

“We should dry first,” Optimus replied. “The minerals could rust the rivets of our armor.”

Prowl nodded, then lowered himself to sit down beside Optimus. He pulled his legs to his chest, trying to cover himself somewhat.

“Regarding my forward actions yesterday,” Optimus said, looking at Prowl. “I know your spark belongs to Jazz. But in the meantime, if you find you need of companionship or just friendship and comfort, please feel free to come to me.”

Glancing at Optimus, careful to not let his optics wander, Prowl nodded. “I just don’t know if it would be right. At the same time, I don’t know how I’ll make it through the next five vorns alone.”

“You will find a way to cope. That’s what we all do,” Optimus replied honestly. “My door is always open, though, if you find you need help coping.”

As much as Prowl was tempted by the offer of companionship, he felt he should remain loyal to Jazz. He just hoped he could convince Jazz to stop being physical with him.

...

Prowl had spent the whole day with Optimus, helping him organize the loom rooms and scrap metal areas with the mechs who had duties there. He was tired from lifting and moving equipment but it was a good sort of tired.

Reaching his room, he laid down on his berth to relax after the long day. He loved trailing Optimus around the encampment every day. They would talk at length about so many different things. He'd learned a lot in the last few weeks, and it gave Prowl a sense of purpose to assist Optimus.

The flap to his room ruffled, and Jazz bounded inside, landing himself atop of Prowl. Sprawled out over him, Jazz grinned. “Like it?” He pointed to a new visor covering his optics.

“It suits you. Please get off me, though.” Prowl gently nudged Jazz to move.

“I look even cooler now, right?” Jazz asked, pushing Prowl’s hand away absently.

Chuckling a little, Prowl hummed his agreement. “Very cool. Now please, get off me.”

“No way. You're mine now.” Jazz leaned down, kissing Prowl.

Unable to pull away, Prowl at first tried not to respond, but the warmth of Jazz against him, coupled with his lips proved too much to resist. He returned the kiss, and his hands went from pushing to groping at Jazz’s back plating instead. Protocols he couldn't control very well sent heat and desire roiling through his entire frame.

The kiss finally broke, and Jazz looked pleased he'd hadn't been forced to stop this time. “You got all extra warm,” he commented.

Suddenly the flap go his room lifted. The elder mech, Triton, who had been his and was still Jazz’s caretaker after Prowl’s creators had passed away appeared. “Prowl!” He shouted in shock and disgust. “You know better than this!” Triton grabbed Jazz by the arm, hauling him up off Prowl to stand. “And how many times do I have to tell you to stay away from Prowl?”

Mortified, Prowl’s faceplates heated as he scrambled to his feet. Other elder mechs heard the yelling and came over to check on the situation. Before he knew it, Prowl had several elder mechs scolding him.

“This is highly inappropriate!”

“How could our Prime chose a deviant for his second?”

“I've always known something wasn't right with the both of them!”

Jazz flailed in the firm grasp Triton had him in, begging to be let go.

Tears welled on Prowl’s optics, shame burned inside his chest. He couldn't help how he felt. He couldn't control Jazz, either. Nor did he want to. Sensor panels trembling, Prowl was about to run past them, go hide in the tunnels until he was calmer when Optimus came walking up to the area of commotion.

The elders quickly turned to him, talking over each other as they derided Prowl and his inability to control himself with a youngling.

Optimus held up both hands to quiet the group. “Jazz, remove that visor.”

Jazz complied, pulling it off. “I don't know why everyone is all upset. Nothing happened. We were hanging out is a–”

“You know you’re not allowed to be around Prowl alone until you're an adult,” Optimus interrupted. “If you do not comply with this rule, I will not allow you any interaction at all. Is that understood?”

Jazz pouted. “Yeah.”

Optimus looked at Prowl. “Come with me right now.”

Prowl opened his mouth to defend himself, but guilt overwhelmed him and any words of protest died in his vocalizer. He simply nodded and bowed his head as he followed Optimus away from the others.

Optimus took him to his personal quarters and once inside tied the door covering closed so they wouldn't be interrupted.

“I'm so sorry for what I did,” Prowl said, keeping his gaze pinned on the rug around his feet.

“I'm sure you didn't initiate anything,” Optimus replied in a warm, softened voice. “Jazz has been precocious his entire life.”

Prowl’s sensor panels lowered. “I should’ve pushed him away.”

“I'm sure you did.” Optimus gently lifted Prowl’s head by his chin forcing him to look into his leader’s optics. “Sometimes being firm is necessary. You love him, so you can't do it by yourself. I will forbid him from being near you alone. And I want you to move into the quarters next to mine. It will help reduce his temptation to disobey.”

Prowl nodded, tears escaping down his cheeks. “I'm sorry I'm so weak.”

“Oh, Prowl…” Optimus pulled Prowl into his arms, hugging him close. “You aren't weak at all.”

It had been so long since Prowl had been able to hug anyone and feel safe doing so. He held onto Optimus tightly, body shivering with everything he tried so hard to hold in.

Optimus gently pet his lower back. “Don't need to hold back with me,” he said in a hushed voice.

Prowl’s emotional dam burst. He sobbed openly, clinging to Optimus. He wanted so badly to be a good mech, someone worthy of being in a leadership position in their group. But he couldn't help that he loved Jazz.

Eventually Optimus led Prowl to his secondary room where his berth was. They laid down together; Prowl nestled in blankets and Optimus’s arms. Exhausted physically and mentally, he soon slipped into a light recharge without meaning to.

Waking with a start sometime later, he peered up at Optimus who smiled at him. “Feeling better?”

“A little.” Prowl fingered Optimus’ chest armor etching of the matrix.

“You’re quite warm,” Optimus commented. “Are you feeling alright?”

Face heating, Prowl withdrew his hand from Optimus’s chest and curled in on himself. “Yes.”

“Perhaps I should take you to the healing cavern just in case,” Optimus said, looking worried.

“It'll pass. It always does,” Prowl replied. “I get like this after… well, when Jazz kisses me.”

Realization lit up Optimus’ optics brightly. “You can't hold out for five more vorns.”

“I can't betray Jazz,” Prowl replied.

“There is nothing wrong with casual interfacing. It's not betraying anyone to have your needs tended to,” Optimus quietly replied. “If I'm not your type, I'm sure there are others closer in age you can go to.”

“I can't trust any of them to not get attached,” Prowl said with a heavy sigh. “And… while I'm being embarrassingly honest, I find you very attractive.” He tried to hide his face in the crook of Optimus’ shoulder. Had he really just admitted that out loud? Primus what a pathetic aft he was…

Silence reigned for several, long uncomfortable minutes. Prowl finally decided he should probably leave, and started to push away from the warmth of Optimus’ hold.

“I…” Optimus cupped Prowl’s cheek. “I want you to stay.”

Prowl held his gaze. “Promise you'll let me go when the time comes?”

Optimus nodded. “I promise.”

“I trust you.”

Prowl was moved by strong arms to lay on his back in the berth. Optimus kissed and mouthed down Prowl’s neck and chest. The heat that had pooled inside his array from earlier burned almost painfully. He whimpered in response.

Unhooking hip armor and exposing Prowl’s array, Optimus tapped the cover. “Open.”

Complying, he sighed with relief. His spike had been trapped tightly for so long. Optimus wrapped his large hand around Prowl’s spike, stroking it up and down. He squeezed it in a way Prowl had never been able to do on his own. Tears formed at the corners of his optics, and his spike throbbed on the verge— “I'm sorry!” Prowl cried out, overloading hard as he arched his body. Fluid spilled across his abdomen as he climaxed for what felt like an eternity. Finally coming down from the moment of release, he relit his optics, not having noticed they'd gone out.

Optimus gazed at him with reverence. “Don't be sorry.”

“I only lasted all of a few seconds...” Prowl touched the sticky mess with a fingertip.

Large fingers slipped between Prowl’s legs, making circles over the leading edge of platelets at the top rim of his valve. “But we aren't done,” Optimus rumbled before kissing the middle of Prowl’s chevron.

That's when Prowl noticed that Optimus’ hip armor was being pushing up from underneath, presumably by his spike. _Optimus was going to spike him…_ He thought, turned on all over again by the mere thought of it. Then a finger pressed inside him, and Prowl keened.

“Did that hurt?” Optimus asked, stilling his hand.

“N-no,” Prowl panted.

Resuming, a second finger joined the first and Prowl trembled with pleasure he'd never felt before. He'd relieved his spike but this sensation deep in his array from his valve was completely new to him.

Optimus eventually stopped fingering Prowl, and pushed himself to sit up. Removing his hip armor, he set it aside, then he undid his chest piece, lifting it up and off as well. Prowl gazed at his beautiful body, then ran a hand over one of his glassy chest plates. Looking amused, Optimus positioned himself over Prowl, parting his smaller legs wider. “If this hurts, you tell me,” Optimus said before laying over Prowl, his spike diving into his waiting valve.

It didn't hurt. It felt strange but wonderful at the same time. At first Optimus moved slowly, spike withdrawing and then impaling him at a slow, deliberate pace. Prowl grasped at any part of Optimus he could wanting more, and pulling on him. “Please…”

Pressing their forehelms together, Optimus picked his pace. Prowl groaned, his entire array tingling and hot, squeezing down on that large spike with each thrust. It felt incredible. In no time, Prowl was quivering on the edge of another overload. Optimus lifted up one of Prowl’s legs, angling in differently and that was all it took to tip him right over the edge. Prowl cried out, clinging to Optimus as his chest rose up and his valve sent the most intense wave of pleasure careening through him. It lasted even longer than his first overload, leaving him panting hard as his cooling systems worked to dispel the excess heat.

Coming down from the high, he managed to focus his optics just in time to watch Optimus overload. With a bliss-soaked expression, Optimus pressed to the hilt and held himself there, spilling inside Prowl.

Wilting after it passed, Optimus lowered himself overtop of Prowl, kissing and nuzzling his cheek.

They laid together in silence for a couple minutes, letting their systems calm and cool themselves.

“I've made a mess of you,” Prowl commented.

“Likewise,” Optimus replied with chuckle. He rolled off Prowl, settling on his side next to him. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, though.”

Prowl looked up at him with a huge smile and nodded fervently. “After we clean up, would you mind if I stayed for the night?”

“I'd be honored,” Optimus replied, kissing the tip of Prowl’s nose.

...

Moving carefully, Jazz crawled through a semi-collapsed space behind the rooms where Prowl and their Prime lived. He pressed his audio to the back wall of Optimus’ berthroom and listened.

Muffled voices were talking. He couldn't be sure who was with Optimus but he suspected.

Over the last vorn Prowl would only speak with Jazz in public spaces, and no touching had been allowed. Jazz’s spark ached with loss. He missed Prowl so much. What made things worse, he'd seen Optimus touch Prowl casually on the shoulder, speak with him like he was now Prowl’s best friend.

Jazz sighed. He couldn't be sure what was going on inside the room. He backed his way out, and when he dropped to the ground below, he whirled around and yelped when he saw he wasn't alone.

“Are you crazy? If anyone saw you in here you'd be locked up!” Smokescreen hissed.

“Why do you keep followin’ me everywhere?” Jazz loudly whispered back.

“I was making sure no one noticed you come back here,” Smokescreen replied, folding his arms over his chest. “Besides, Prowl loves our Prime now. Everyone knows it.”

Tears immediately sprang to Jazz’s optics. His visor hid them, though. “Shut the frag up! That's not true!” He ran past Smokescreen.

“You're lucky I'm not gonna tell on you for coming back here _and_ saying a bad word!” Smokescreen yelled back.

Jazz ran across the bottom level of their encampment and up the ramp. He wasn't looking up, trying to keep from crying when he ran smack into Optimus and fell back on his aft.

“Are you alright?” Optimus asked, leaning forward to offer Jazz a helping hand up.

Looking up, anger and frustration intersected. He slapped at Optimus’ hand. “Prowl promised to be with me!”

Sadness flickered over Optimus face, and he crouched down. “I know. Prowl keeps his promises.”

“Everyone says he loves you now,” Jazz said, voice wavering, tears skipping down his cheeks.

Shaking his head, Optimus dimmed his optics. “Everyone who?”

Jazz huffed. “Don't talk to me like I'm some stupid sparklin’. I'm only two vorns away from bein’ an adult.”

Optimus looked pensive for a moment. “Okay then. I'm going to tell you something very important the matrix has told me. Listen carefully, because I won't repeat it.” Optimus held Jazz’s gaze. “You and Prowl will be together. You will bond. One day Prowl will be in charge of this tribe and he will need you at his side to help him.”

Confused, Jazz frowned. “But, you're our Prime. Why would he be the leader?”

“I don't know. I just know what the matrix tells me sometimes,” Optimus replied. He re-offered his hand. “So just be patient.”

Jazz took the hand, and let Optimus help him up. If their Prime promised he and Prowl would be together, he wanted to believe it.

...

Jazz woke in the healing cavern. He ached all over from getting his final upgrades, making him an adult finally. He glanced over at the next off-the-ground berth where Grapple was still recharging.

He knew he should rest more, let his body work to heal from the welds and integrate the last software upload. But all he could think about was Prowl. He'd not been allowed to be alone with him in almost five vorns. In fact, the adults had actively kept them apart.

Sitting up, Jazz winced in pain. He didn't care how much he hurt, though. No one could keep them apart now and he had to win Prowl back…

After taking a moment to steel himself, he swung his legs off the high berth, and stood himself up. He was wobbly, but determined.

“I'm comin’ Prowl,” he said, letting go of the berth edge and unsteadily walking out of the healing cavern.

…

Prowl quietly worked on a locking puzzle game. There were linked twisted sections of metal that came apart in the correct sequence. It had been a gift from Optimus, an item he found on a salvage.

“Prowl?”

He froze, glancing at his doorway to see a visor looking back at him. “Jazz? What are you doing up already?” Prowl set the puzzle down and was on his feet in an instant. He lifted the doorway cover, gesturing for Jazz to come inside.

Jazz was wobbly as he entered. “I woke up. Wanted to see you.”

Prowl looked worried. “It takes days to recover. Come here, lay down in my berth.” He guided Jazz to the back room, and helped him lie back in the blankets. Pressing a hand to Jazz’s chest, he felt the heat from his body healing radiating off him. “Maybe I should grab Trailbreaker to make sure your welds are alright.”

Grabbing Prowl’s hand, Jazz shook his head. “I’ll be fine, so long as you stay with me.”

Five vorns since they’d touched or been alone together. Prowl lifted Jazz’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “I won't leave your side.”

“I need you to know I love you _so_ much. That I only wanna be with you.” Jazz squeezed Prowl’s hand. “Do you still love me?”

Resting Jazz’s hand over the center of his chest, Prowl nodded. “I never stopped loving you. Not for a second. This has been the longest five vorns of my life.” He leaned down, and kissed Jazz.

Jazz audibly whimpered in response.

Pulling back, Prowl removed Jazz’s visor with his free hand and gazed deeply into his optics. “Rest. I'll be here when you wake. Promise.”

“What about Optimus?” Jazz asked, looking unsure.

“He's not my best friend or the love of my life.” He pet Jazz’s helm horn. “Rest.”

Jazz’s optics dimmed, and he soon drifted off.

Prowl didn't move, stroking his hand in his lap. He worried his choice to be intimate with Optimus might complicate things, but held fast to the fact that he'd never stopped yearning to be with Jazz. He had no illusions there would be difficult moments to come, but their life together started now.

…

Now:

Unable to recharge any more, Prowl got up after only a couple hours of rest. He decided to wander to the healing cavern to look in on Optimus. Stepping out from his quarters in the middle of the night, he glanced up at movement on a level above.

Jazz escorted First Aid from their assigned quarters up to Trailbreaker’s room.

Prowl couldn't believe Jazz would abuse his position like this. He ducked back into his quarters, and began to pace. Had Jazz gone against his wishes knowing that Prowl would forgive him? Had Trailbreaker pressured Jazz? He knew he was too upset to think clearly, though. In a few hours he'd consult Ironhide.


	15. Discord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth and consequences.

Mirage sipped his steeped energon, sitting on his berth while watching Hound dig through a cabinet.

“I know I had a piece I saved…” Hound pulled out all sorts of odds and ends. Pieces of metal, old parts to an engine turbine, some thick pieces of woven fabric... “A-ha!” He unfurled a thinner, beautiful light blue and lavender colored cloth. “You like it?”

Canting his head, Mirage pursed his lips. “It's very lovely but what does it have to do with my wandering around armor-less?”

“You can wear this instead,” Hound replied with a huge grin. “It won't be heavy like the armor set, but you'll be covered.”

“It's not like I'm wandering around with my spike hanging out,” Mirage replied.

Hound’s optics got wide and bright. “Um, no, but your body is, uh, _pretty_. Honestly, you’d probably wear hip armor and a heavy chest sash like Blue if you were raised in this group.”

“Pretty, hm?” Mirage enjoyed the compliments about his looks. Especially since he wasn't considered any more attractive than other racer builds in Iacon. “Well, I don't want to be a distraction, I suppose.”

Hound brightly smiled.

There was something nice about this wildland mech’s goofy grin. Mirage subtly smiled back, then set his cup of energon to the side and stood up. “How do I wear it exactly?”

Getting to his feet, Hound stepped over his treasured junk and draped the cloth around Mirage’s back, clumsily tying it in front. It was hardly a fashionable look.

Mirage frowned. “It's a bit bulky and strange-looking at your knot.”

“Let’s go see the loom room mechs tomorrow. They used to make cloth outfits for other groups before they joined us. I'm sure one of them could make this into something more fitting,” Hound replied.

“Alright,” Mirage replied. Primus help him, he was sort of enjoying himself.

…

First Aid woke to gentle prodding. Dimly lighting his optics behind his visor, he saw Jazz grinning at him. Smiling back, he sat up.

No words were needed. First Aid knew he was getting another slice of time alone with Trailbreaker and his spark was fluttering like mad in anticipation.

Getting to his feet, he silently followed Jazz out of his shared room and up the ramp. Jazz lifted the door covering and First Aid stepped inside, lighting up at the sight of Trailbreaker waiting for him.

“Got like an hour at most,” Jazz whispered.

They both nodded, and Jazz disappeared.

Trailbreaker stepped forward and took hold of First Aid’s hand. “Sorry for all this late night meeting up. I promise as soon as Optimus is awake I'll ask him to make us an exception”

“ _If_ he wakes up,” First Aid replied with a small frown.

“You don't think he will?” Trailbreaker looked concerned.

“We need those nanites for him,” First Aid replied. “All we can do right now is manually maintain his body to allow what little nanites he has left to help him. But it's not enough.”

Trailbreaker sadly frowned. “Prowl is having a meeting about a trip to see the healer tribe in the south tomorrow. I want to volunteer to go, but I don't want to leave you again.”

Spark fluttering, First Aid couldn't help but smile. “I would miss you and worry. Maybe I could go, too?”

With a warm smile Trailbreaker leaned in, then kissed First Aid. “You are too sweet, you know that? I think it's safest here until the Vosian Deceptions stop attacking us.”

“I suppose,” First Aid replied, faceplates heating from the kiss.

“Not to just switch subjects, but we don't have a lot of time, and I wanted to do something fun with you,” Trailbreaker said, gently guiding First Aid to his floor-level table.

First Aid happily sat down, and Trailbreaker joined him, pulling a box closer to them and removing the lid. “Alpha Trion taught my creators how to make educational toys for the sparklings.”

Suddenly, First Aid was reminded he needed to tell Trailbreaker about his origin. He fidgeted slightly, worry creeping in. What if Trailbreaker stopped liking him once he knew?

“One of the toys they'd make were puzzles.” Trailbreaker dumped the contents of the box on the table. Tiny pieces of metal in strange shapes with one side etched scattered across the tabletop. “I loved solving them when I was younger, so I made a harder version for myself as an adult.”

First Aid picked up a piece, examining it. “I've done lots of puzzles on datapads. Never a real life one. This is so neat.”

“Let's find the edges first,” Trailbreaker replied. He began to sort the pile, setting pieces with one straight edge to the side.

First Aid followed Trailbreaker’s lead and helped him sort. A comfortable silence filled the air around them as they worked together. Glancing up at the side of Trailbreaker’s face, First Aid took a moment to appreciate how handsome he was. Dimming his optics behind his visor, he steeled himself to admit the truth.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” First Aid said, connecting matching pieces of the lower edge together.

“Oh?” Trailbreaker asked, pausing with a puzzle piece in hand.

“It's just, well, I really like you. I might be jumping ahead, but if this thing between us might turn into more, I want to be perfectly honest with you,” First Aid explained.

Setting the piece down, Trailbreaker turned his full attention to First Aid. “I do want more.”

First Aid looked up at him, his spark stirring inside his chest. “I wasn't created like you. I didn't have two creators or a sparklinghood.”

Looking dubious, Trailbreaker shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

“It is, though.” First Aid started to feel his courage waver. No, he promised Ratchet he’d be honest and not be ashamed of how he was created. “My spark was created by--” A shrill cry pierced the stillness of the night. First Aid paused, his software classifying the high pitched sound as a sparkling crying, one that was in distress. “There’s an infant sparkling here?”

Trailbreaker frowned a little as the crying continued. “Yeah, Windcharger and Glyph had a sparkling a vorn ago. It's the youngest one in the encampment.”

First Aid frowned. “He needs healing.”

“How can you tell? Sometimes sparklings just cry,” Trailbreaker replied.

“No, this is different. It has the same tenor you had when you were stabbed. The reason I turned around to help.” First Aid pushed to stand up. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted us to have a nice time, but I need to help the sparkling.”

Trailbreaker firmly nodded. “Don’t be sorry. If you think it’s important, then it must be.” He got to his feet, and lifted the door covering for First Aid.

Jazz hissed up at them, but First Aid ignored him, making a beeline for the room where the cries were coming from further up the ramp.

Trailbreaker shrugged and then followed First Aid.

At the room, First Aid lifted the covering, and peered in on the small family of minibots. “Hey. I heard someone is unhappy in here.”

“I’m so sorry! He just started to cry. We’re trying to calm him,” Windcharger replied with a wince.

“May I look at him?” First Aid asked.

Glyph stared up at First Aid with imploring optics. “You’re the healer, aren’t you? The one that saved Trailbreaker and Jazz?”

“This is him,” Trailbreaker confirmed.

“Then please, if you can lay hands on him and heal him, then do,” Glyph said, holding out the crying sparkling bundled up in a thin cloth.

First Aid entered their small domicile, and then gestured to the berth. “You can lay him down there. What’s his name?”

Glyph set him down on the berth beside her. “Rook.”

“Hey, there Rook. Lemmie just feel around you a bit, okay?” First Aid gently ran his fingers over the tiny sparkling who half-cried and half-stared up curiously. All First Aid knew about sparklings was from reading and studying about them. He’d never treated one before, but he could pulse around his tiny frame and locate the cause of his distress. Around his lower backside First Aid found a strange echo. Where one system in a sparkling should be, he was pulsing two. He glanced at Trailbreaker. “Could you got get Ratchet?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be right back,” Trailbreaker replied, quickly leaving.

“Is he going to...die?” Windcharger asked, wringing his hands together.

“No. He just needs a little adjustment made. I want my mentor to look and be sure I located the right area.” First Aid smiled reassuringly.

Glyph pet her sparkling’s head, and softly sighed.

First Aid focused on her, noticing her optics seemed dim. She didn’t look very well. “Were you the carrier?”

Glyph looked up at him. “Yes.”

“Have you been fueling?” First Aid asked.

“Not as much as she should be. She also recharges much more than she did before Rook,” Windcharger replied.

First Aid nodded, suspecting spark damage from the separation.

Ratchet threw up the door covering, entering with Trailbreaker on his heels. “That's the little one making so much noise?”

“He's got two systems occupying the same area in his lower body,” First Aid replied in their own language. “And the carrier here shows signs of spark damage,”

Ratchet nodded, then kneeled down next to First Aid and the sparkling. He pulsed the area First Aid pointed to. “Yep. Two systems growing into each other. Happens a lot with minibot sparklings. Can fashion a shim to put between them until he grows a bit more,” he replied.

“Can you help him?” Windcharger asked.

“Yeah. How about all three of you come to the healing cavern with us,” Ratchet replied in their wildland tongue.

Glyph scooped up the crying sparkling, holding him to her chest, hushing him and kissing his forehelm. Windcharger then offered to hold him so she could get up. Soon everyone was on their feet, making their way in a small impromptu parade down to the healing cavern.

…

Hearing the ruckus, Prowl stepped out of his quarters just in time to see Ratchet, First Aid, the young minibot family and Trailbreaker crossing toward the healing cavern.

“What in the name of Primus is going on out here?” Ironhide grumbled, emerging from his room nearby.

Prowl glanced up at Jazz still standing guard. “Betrayal and a medical emergency it seems.”

“Betrayal?” Ironhide looked confused.

“Wake Bluestreak, put him in Jazz’s place and meet me in the gathering tent with Jazz in tow,” Prowl replied, flicking his doorwings angrily.

“Yeah, alright,” Ironhide replied, clearly concerned by Prowl’s demeanor.

…

First Aid assisted Ratchet with the sparkling. He was much too tiny to give a dose of any medication First Aid had left. Instead he distracted the little sparkling by dangling empty glass tubes tied together with a thin rubber hose that clanged and made funny noises.

Nearby, Windcharger held up Glyph who was clearly struggling to remain on her feet. Trailbreaker eventually stepped in, guiding her to an empty berth to sit. They passed by Optimus, both bowing their helms in respect.

Ratchet was as focused as ever. It was as if he, First Aid and the sparkling were the only ones in the room. He carefully unwrapped the cloth from around the sparkling then pulled off a side plating panel. Gently lifting the half-crying sparkling up he saw the two forming systems. “See this here?” He said to First Aid in their native language.

Peering inside the smallest frame First Aid had ever seen, he could literally see the glowing edge where nanites were busily following the spark’s coding to build and incorporate internal workings. “That electrical router is original, but his body is building on it,” First Aid observed.

“And at the same time a new filtering system for energon is being formed. They’re occupying the same space, but in a few weeks his outer plating will have also grown, allowing enough room. So to keep them from touching, I'm going to slip this thin piece of metal in.” Ratchet held it up. It was a metal that didn't conduct electricity, therefore protecting the filter from rogue electrical discharge. He very carefully slid it in place.

The sparkling’s cries stopped. He grabbed at the dangling tubes, trying to put one in his mouth. First Aid chuckled, and pulled it from his grasp.

“He's okay now?” Windcharger asked.

Ratchet snapped the panel back in place. “Yup. In a couple weeks, bring him back here for another check on how he's doing.”

Windcharger stepped forward, wrapping Rook back up in his cloth and kissing his forehelm. “All better, hm? Healers are amazing, aren't they?”

Ratchet leveled a look at Glyph. “I need to examine your bonded now. I'd prefer everyone but First Aid step out.”

Trailbreaker nodded, guiding Windcharger and the sparkling in his arms out the doors.

“Spark damage, right?” First Aid asked in their language.

“Yes. I suspect I know why.” Ratchet moved to stand in front of her. “Hello there.”

She shyly lowered her gaze. “Hello.”

“I'd like to look at your spark. Would you mind letting me see?” Ratchet asked, his gruffness softening to make her more comfortable.

Nodding, Glyph opened her chest. Ratchet didn't even have to lean in to see the separation scar. A dark mark in the field of golden light. “Have you spark merged since having Rook?” He asked.

She shook her head, optics glassy. “I don't want to get sparked again,” she said in a hushed voice. “I got sparked when we bonded. I love Rook, but I'm not ready for another one so soon.”

Ratchet sadly smiled. “Your spark needs to heal. Merging with your bondmate will give it the extra boost of spark light energy it needs to do that.” He then glanced at First Aid and gestured for him to come closer. “How about I make it so you can't get sparked again if you merge?”

Glyph looked almost alarmed. “But, one day I might want another.”

“First Aid, open up for me, please?” Ratchet said.

Obeying, First Aid knew exactly what Ratchet was going to do. Glyph stared at First Aid’s spark after he opened his chest for Ratchet. Removing his inhibitor from the side of his spark chamber, Ratchet held it up to show Glyph.

“This will keep a new spark from forming. But it's not permanent. When you're ready for another sparkling it can be removed. But for now, I can attach it to your spark chamber and you can merge all you need with your bondmate without worry,” Ratchet explained. “May I attach it?”

She nodded. “Please.” Glyph looked at First Aid as he shut his chest and Ratchet reached inside hers to attach the inhibitor. “You're spark is purple instead of gold,” she said to First Aid.

“Different classes of mechs have different colors of sparks. All minibots have gold ones, mechs like Ratchet have white ones, your Prime has a blue one because he's a larger build,” First Aid happily explained.

“If you and your fellow healer are the same why is his spark white and yours purple?” She asked curiously.

Ratchet finished attaching the inhibitor and gestured for her to close her chest. “Because he was created by an ancient holy relic.”

Glyph looked incredibly impressed.

First Aid’s faceplates heated. Despite Ratchet teaching him not to be ashamed of how he was created, the long term, constant negative reactions he'd lived with in Kaon stayed with him even now.

Glyph started to slide off the berth, but Ratchet stopped her.

“Go grab her bonded, First Aid. She'll need assistance walking back,” Ratchet said glancing at him.

First Aid quickly went to the doorway, gesturing for Trailbreaker and Windcharger to return.

“Is she okay?” Windcharger asked, approaching Glyph with their sparkling recharging contentedly in his arms.

“I'm fine,” she replied. Windcharger pressed a kiss to her cheek in response.

Trailbreaker offered his arm to her to lean on as she stood up.

She bowed before Ratchet and First Aid. “I can never repay you for all you've done, but if you require anything from the looms, it's yours.”

“Just go merge and get better,” Ratchet replied.

She shyly smiled, then left with Trailbreaker helping her walk alongside her bondmate and sparkling.

“We’ll talk again soon,” Trailbreaker called over his shoulder to First Aid.

Shyly smiling, First Aid nodded.

Once they were gone, Ratchet looked at Optimus’ still form. “These mechs need us. Not just the big guy there.”

First Aid glanced at his mentor. “Maybe we should do maintenance checks on all of them?”

“She's probably not the only one holding back from merges. We’re going to need more inhibitors… and we should have a talk with them all about safe merging practices.” Ratchet sighed then glanced at First Aid smiling. “Thank you.”

“For what?” First Aid asked.

“I've always searched for places where I can do the most good. You led me right into a underground world of mechs that need a lot of good done for them.” He slapped First Aid’s shoulder in a friendly gesture.

First Aid couldn't help but brightly smile. “I'm glad I got botnapped then.”

Ratchet burst out laughing, and hugged First Aid to his side. “Adopting you, as it were, was one of the best decisions I've ever made.”

Faceplates hot with embarrassment, First Aid ducked his head. It made him happy to be so important to Ratchet.

…

Jazz frowned as he followed Ironhide to the meeting tent on the bottom level. Glancing up at Bluestreak he'd left on guard, he wondered what exactly was going on.

Stepping into the tent he was met with the hard gaze of his intended-to-be-bonded.

Ironhide moved to stand to the side after securing the tent flap so they wouldn’t be interrupted.

“What’s goin’ on?” Jazz asked.

“You tell me.” Prowl’s doorwings twitched. “Earlier tonight I saw First Aid being escorted from his assigned quarters up to Trailbreaker’s.”

Jazz shrunk in on himself, and nervously laughed. “Thought you were rechargin’.”

“That’s what you do when you think I’m not looking? Betray me? Go against our rules?” Prowl asked, voice sharp.

“No, it’s not like that.” Jazz held up his hands in a submissive gesture. “I didn’t betray you.”

Prowl’s doorwings rose on his back as he shook his head slowly. “I have made it abundantly clear Trailbreaker is not to interact with our sacred healer. Yet you took the healer right to him? Why would you do that? Why would you allow Trailbreaker to defile a sacred mech? One that saved your life no less!”

“Trailbreaker would never defile anyone. First Aid likes ‘im. He likes First Aid. Sacred mech or not, what does keepin’ them apart accomplish other than upsetting the healer, and hurting a sparklinghood friend? I mean, come on, Prowl. You had the poor healer locked in the cavern all alone!” Jazz replied. “I love you, but sometimes lately, you’ve been so unreasonable.”

“You put Optimus’ health at risk for some crush between them?” Prowl asked, incredulous.

“First Aid and his healer friend, Ratchet, both told us they need help to heal him. Keepin’ First Aid away from Trailbreaker won’t change that.” Jazz honestly couldn’t understand what harm it caused. “The happier First Aid is, the more he’s been willin’ to help us. Why are you so bent on makin’ him miserable?”

“I’m not! I’m following the rules! Alpha Trion never took a bondmate. He lived _alone_. We were taught to treat all healers as we treated him. Like a sacred being to be protected,” Prowl replied.

Frustrated, Jazz curled his hands into fists at his sides. “He’s protected! Trailbreaker would never let anything happen to him! So what if they end up bein’ more than friends? How does that change anything?”

Ironhide shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable having to bear witness to their first real argument ever.

“It’s a _distraction_ ,” Prowl replied in a sharp tone. “First Aid and Ratchet should be focused on bringing Optimus back to us, not off gallivanting with Trailbreaker! Sacred mechs are to be focused on their purpose!”

“What? Like Optimus? He’s sacred, but that didn’t stop him from berthing you!” Jazz shouted back.

The minute the words left Jazz’s mouth, he instantly regretted them.

Prowl’s optics grew wide and bright. His doorwings trembled on his back. Even Ironhide was staring at Jazz in shock.

“You should leave,” Prowl replied, voice low and wavering slightly.

Jazz felt tears form on his optics. “Prowl, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I take it back…”

Prowl lowered his gaze to the ground. “Leave _now_. Before I lose my temper entirely.”

Ripping the tent flap up from the corner, Jazz fled. He’d never felt more awful in his entire life. Not even after he’d admitted to cheating on Prowl. He didn’t want anyone to see him, and headed down the corridor toward the tunnels. How could he have said that? He knew better than to mention what happened between Prowl and Optimus. It was an unspoken pact between them to let it lie in the past, and he’d just thrown it in Prowl’s face. Tears streamed down his face as he jogged down into the dark tunnels. He put on his headlights to keep from tripping on debris, and let himself openly sob once he knew he was out of audio-shot of the encampment. He just needed to find a quiet place to hide, so he could mourn what he’d just destroyed between him and Prowl with his stupid big mouth.


	16. Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone new appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two days?? Hooray for a strong need for escapism lately!

Hugging his middle, Prowl tried to control himself from shaking. Ever since Jazz showed up to his quarters after his adult upgrades, they’d never really talked about Optimus. The time Prowl had spent as a lover to their leader was only tangentially mentioned a few times. Jazz had just ripped the old wound right open.

“He’s right, you know,” Ironhide murmured. “It doesn’t make any sense to stick to our group’s rules so strictly. Optimus didn’t.”

“I know he’s right.” Prowl dimmed his optics, his spark aching deeply inside his chest. “I follow the rules because that’s all I have to go by now. Optimus made exceptions when he felt it was right, but he had the matrix to guide him.”

Ironhide snorted at that. “Okay, granted. Sometimes stuff the big guy did was because of the matrix guiding him. Like bringing all us here to be safe and have a reliable source of energon. But other stuff, the life stuff? He went with his gut. He didn’t strictly follow rules. What does your gut tell you about ‘Breaker and our little healer?”

Prowl looked at Ironhide, frowning.

“I’m serious. If you were to make the call for yourself, what would you do?” Ironhide repeated.

“I suppose it does no real harm for them to court. Or even engage in a relationship, especially if the other healer intends to also stay,” Prowl replied. “But I can’t decide something like that without Optimus approving. He has final say in these matters.”

“He’s been in stasis for months, Prowl. _You’re_ the leader now. Start acting like it,” Ironhide chided.

Prowl grimaced. “What have I done? I _need_ Jazz…”

Ironhide huffed and walked over, gently patting Prowl’s back. “You both need to talk out some stuff. But I think maybe you two need to calm down first.”

Quickly wiping at the tears forming, Prowl’s heavily sighed. If he was truthful with himself, he knew he was scared. What if Optimus never woke? What if he really would end up in charge of this group? How in the world could he lead without Jazz at his side to help ground him? _Primus, forgive me for hurting him…_

…

Waking, Drift stared up but saw only darkness. He had one dim crystal left. Rolling to his side, he set the lid of the traveling light down over the crystal. It barely lit up at all. It was almost out of energy. His vision shifted focus to the prone form of his best friend on the other side of the half-crushed room.

His fuel tank pinged at him. He was at less than ten percent. If he didn’t locate some energon soon, he’d shut down and never wake up. Stiffly pushing himself up, he glanced at the pile of boosters next to his dim lamp. Every day he woke up here, hopelessly lost in these tunnels, he considered using them to fry his cortex and end his life. At least he’d die feeling good. It was certainly better than starving.

“I promised you I would try to survive,” he said to the unmoving form across from him.

Drift got to his feet, then ducked out of the room he’d used as a home for several weeks now. He turned on his chest lights at the lowest setting to avoid burning too much of his low level of fuel. He clumsily wandered around this strange ancient city that had been swallowed by their planet. Pulling his tunic around himself, he sighed. He hadn’t felt warm in what seemed like weeks now. Being here he’s lost all sense of time.

He and Gasket had escaped the detention area they and the rest of their nomad tribe had been put into by the Vosian Decepticons. They risked transforming and drove as fast as they could to get away. They were tracked down three days later, though. After fighting off the fliers, Gasket led them into a strange cave. But it was no ordinary mountain cave. It was part of an old building. They’d tucked themselves in the very back area, and the Vosian Decepticons didn’t find them when they swept through on their search. Once they were safe again, Gasket pushed on the wall to brace himself to stand, but the thin metal gave way and exposed a tunnel. They decided the tunnels would be safer than trying to cross outside. How wrong they’d been.

Drift stumbled over a piece of metal. He huffed at his own lack of coordination when he found his balance again. He considered giving up, going back to lay down next to Gasket and let the darkness take him. But something inside him pushed him on.

A large girder lay across one of the hallways. Walking around it, a section of the floor fell through, and so did Drift. He landed hard a level below, groaning. “I can’t climb back up…” he murmured, disheartened.

Then he smelled it. Sitting up, he sniffed the air. “Energon?”

Despite being on the verge of starvation, he suddenly got a second wind of energy. Stumbling along what looked like an old roadway he followed the scent. It got stronger. Coming around a bend a bright pink light bounced off the walls. He practically ran, tripping over his own feet toward the source of the light. Sure enough a huge long vein of raw energon came into view. It looked like it went on forever.

Digging his fingers into a section of the vein, he managed to scrape some energon away. He quickly shoved what he’d dislodged into his mouth, and then suckled his fingers to get every last trace. His fuel tank still ached, though. He needed more, but how to get it out of the wall? In raw form it was dense and sticky. He looked around for something to dig at the vein with. He picked up a piece of broken metal plating and gouged out a section of the energon. He bit right into it, barely chewing it before swallowing.

Voices echoed from further down the corridor where the energon vein led. He froze mid-bite.

They didn’t sound like Vosians, but they also didn’t speak his language. He swallowed, and then tucked the piece he gouged out into a large pocket on the front of his tunic. Running back toward where he’d come from, panic took hold of him. What if he was captured again? Forced to do things he didn’t want to do? He shivered, memories of what that Vosian Decepticon leader had done to him echoing in his mind. He whimpered. “Don’t have a meltdown now…” he told himself.

Once he felt safe from the voices, he slowed down his pace. Stopping under the floor area that he’d fallen through, he frowned as he stared upward. How would he get back up there? His mind felt clearer as the fuel converted and began to power his systems more efficiently again. He considered his options, looking around.

He didn’t want to make noise and alert those mechs to his presence, so moving large objects over to climb up wasn’t an option. He then noticed more holes in the flooring further down the corridor where the ground rose upward more. Making his way over, he leapt up, fingertips grasping the edge of the opening. It took every ounce of strength he had to pull himself up to the dark corridor above. He panted, his body not in the good shape it had once been. He stayed where he was for a while, crouched in a balled shape, leaning against a dirty wall with his tunic wrapped tightly around him. Once he felt he’d recovered enough, he began to crawl along the unsteady floor, knowing sections could fall if he wasn’t careful.

The good thing about time being meaningless, he didn’t feel like he needed to rush. He slowly crawled down the corridor until he’d reached the fallen girder. The floor here wasn’t as weak, and he finally got to his feet. He walked back to the little room that was his home, finding the crystal had finally gone out. Using his headlights, he sat back down where he’d woken up. Pulling the chunk of energon out, he set it on the dirty floor. He broke off another good sized piece and began to eat it.

“There are mechs here. I heard them. They sounded a little like the Vosians, but different. I didn't get caught, though. I escaped,” he told the prone form of his best friend.

…

Jazz sat on an old decorative chair in a destroyed room from before the cataclysm. He'd spent the five orns estranged from Prowl exploring these tunnels. This room was his favorite. He liked to sit here and imagine what sort of life the mechs from back then led.

Today he wasn't in a reminiscing mood, though. He cried quietly, spark aching. Prowl was his world. He knew better than to mention Optimus but he spoke without thinking. Jazz had gotten drunk and cheated on Prowl to get back at him for being with Optimus vorns ago. Prowl had forgiven him. Then he waited to ask Prowl to bond to him until after Optimus was injured out of fear of rejection. After all, what mech would chose him over a Prime? But Prowl accepted the proposal without a moment’s hesitation. Jazz thought he'd moved past his jealousy and insecurities. Apparently not. He didn't feel worthy of Prowl’s attention or affection. He never had. Even when they were small.

Removing his visor, he wiped his face with hands. “I hope he’ll forgive me again,” he said in a hushed voice.

Suddenly, a loud crashing sound echoed.

He froze. The tunnels were always quiet. What in the world made that sound? He got to his feet, and walked silently out to the corridor while snapping his visor back on. He didn't see anything. Standing still, he visually scanned the dark, cavernous area. Nothing moved. Jazz frowned. He'd _definitely_ heard something.

Sighing, he decided he should return to the encampment anyway. He'd been here a few hours already. There was no point hiding forever.

Making his way to a set of decrepit stairs, he went down toward the tunnel that led to the energon vein. He was about to step off the last step when he saw someone he didn't recognize. He pressed against the old wall and peered around the edge, watching the mech struggle to climb up into a hole to get to the level above. Unsure if the mech was armed, and definitely not armed himself, Jazz chose not to engage.

Once the mech disappeared above, he internally debated about what he should do. If he hurried back up the stairs, he might be able to track the mech. But he wasn't armed with his club. What if there were more mechs hiding up there? If he went for help they might not find the mech again. Or know where he'd come from.

Jazz grimaced, then made his choice. He went back up the stairs.

He found an old piece of pipe on the ground, and then started searching the area for the stranger.

…

A meeting had been called. Ratchet, First Aid, the twins and Mirage were all taken to the gathering tent along with several of the encampment mechs, including Trailbreaker and Hound.

Prowl stood just in front of a table waiting for them all to file inside. He looked out of sorts, not his usual commanding self.

“You think he’s ill?” First Aid whispered to Ratchet.

“Not sure,” Ratchet replied.

The twins both whispered compliments to Mirage regarding his flowing fabric covering. He smiled proudly, pointing to Hound as the gift giver.

First Aid saw Trailbreaker gazing at him just past Hound and they exchanged smiles.

“Where’s Jazz?” Hound whispered to Trailbreaker.

“Dunno. Haven't seen him since last night,” Trailbreaker replied.

Prowl hushed the gathered mechs.

“As you are all well aware, our Prime has been ill since our attempt to free the leaders of the minibot group in battle with the Vosian Deceptions,” Prowl began. “We have been blessed by Primus with not one, but two healers. Despite this fortune, they have informed me that the only way to possibly save our Prime is by going to the healer group in the south for further assistance.”

“We haven't been there in vorns. You think they're still there?” Hoist asked.

“I don't know,” Prowl answered honestly. “But we must go and try to locate them. This means a three week trek. I normally choose a team, but for such a long and potentially dangerous trip, I would like to ask for volunteers.”

“When you say ‘trek’, you mean you mechs _walk_ everywhere you go?” Mirage asked.

“Of course,” Prowl replied.

“Why not use your alt modes and drive? You'd cover more ground much quicker,” Mirage replied.

Practically every group member turned to stare at Mirage.

“We don't use our alt modes,” Hound whispered to Mirage.

“Why the frag not?” Mirage asked, not bothering to whisper back.

“Not all mechs have equal alt modes. Some can drive, others cannot. Alt modes are reserved for only the most dire situations, especially since it requires removing our external armor,” Prowl explained.

“Oh, for frag’s sake,” Mirage replied. “You have a long distance to cover in search of mechs you aren't even sure are there. Why waste resources feeding a large volunteer group, then? Ever heard of scouting ahead? Send a couple mechs that can drive and cover more ground searching.”

Ratchet face palmed, sighing. Elite mechs were such pains in the aft. “You could at least _pretend_ to be respectful of these mechs and their culture,” he hissed at Mirage in their language.

The gathered mechs began to murmur among themselves.

“I'll go!” Hound suddenly said over the rumblings. “I think he's got a point about saving time by driving. Plus, I'm a tracker. If they moved, I might be able to tell where.”

Prowl frowned. Everyone looked at him anticipating his answer.

“You cannot go alone,” Prowl said, gaze switching focus to Mirage. “Would you volunteer to go with Hound?”

“He's not part of our group!” a minibot piped up.

“So what? Of course I'll go. I've got nothing better to do anyway,” Mirage replied.

“Primus,” Ratchet muttered under his breath.

“Then it is settled. It is your responsibility to return Hound to us. It's Hound’s responsibility to track the healers,” Prowl stated firmly.

“Should just the two of them go alone?” Ironhide asked Prowl in a hushed voice.

“The south is not Vosian Deception territory, and I really don't see anyone other than Hound putting up with him. Do you?” Prowl whispered back.

Ironhide hummed his agreement.

“You will leave first light tomorrow. Everyone but the newcomers, Trailbreaker, Hound and Ironhide are dismissed,” Prowl said.

Bluestreak lingered, clearly curious about why Prowl held back some mechs from the dismissal.

“Blue, you should go now,” Prowl said, gesturing.

“Come on, Blue. We aren't invited to the party,” Smokescreen said, tugging on his arm.

Once the tent cleared, Prowl heavily sighed. “I first want to apologize. As it was made very clear to me this morning, I have been myopic and acting out of personal fear.” He lowered his sensor panels and looked at Trailbreaker. “I'm granting you and First Aid exception to the rule regarding personal relationships with sacred healers. My exception is only valid while Optimus remains in stasis. You will need to appeal to him when he's awake again.”

“Thank you, Prowl,” Trailbreaker replied, stunned by the reversal.

“This is my official invitation to each of you newcomers to become part of our group. If and when you do choose to stay with us permanently, there is a short ceremony we perform to induct you to the group,” Prowl added, looking at each of them. “I am also going to remove the guards as a gesture of trust.”

“Can we get our own room?” Sideswipe asked. Sunstreaker jabbed his brother in the side. “What? We need alone time…”

Prowl glanced at Ironhide. “Can we move some of the supplies around to open up another space?”

“Yeah, I think so. We’re low on a lot of things anyway,” Ironhide replied.

“Give us a few days, and we’ll see if we can arrange that for you. Being a part of this group means doing your part, though. As warriors, I'd like you take part in missions outside the encampment,” Prowl explained.

“I'm happy to kick flying aft anytime,” Sunstreaker replied.

“Me, too,” Sideswipe chimed in.

Prowl smiled a little at that, though he looked sad, too. “Hopefully that will not be the norm.”

“Prowl?” Hound frowned. “Where's Jazz?”

“I haven't seen him since early this morning. You all have him to thank for changing my mind,” Prowl replied.

“I haven't seen him since really early, either,” Trailbreaker said, adding to Hound’s worry.

Prowl sighed. “He's probably in the tunnels.”

“He only goes there when he's up...set…” Hound trailed off. “Something happened between you guys?”

“I'm not going to discuss my personal life right now. He’ll return when he's ready,” Prowl replied. “You are all dismissed.”

Hound and Trailbreaker weren't pleased by the quick dismissal but they obeyed. Everyone filed out of the tent leaving Prowl with Ironhide.

First Aid stood awkwardly waiting to openly talk to Trailbreaker. But Trailbreaker was busy quietly chatting with Hound.

“Quite rude if you ask me,” Mirage said, hands on hips as he stopped to stand next to First Aid.

“You? Yeah, pretty rude in there,” Ratchet piped up.

“No, I meant our suitors off whispering to each other,” Mirage replied gesturing.

“Hound is courting you?” First Aid asked, optics bright behind his visor.

“What?” Hound said, looking over at them.

Mirage shot First Aid a side glance and spoke in a hushed voice. “I've got my sights set.” He winked an optic. “Oh no, he misunderstood. Shouldn't we be getting ready to leave?” He said in a normal voice to Hound.

“Primus,” Ratchet muttered.

The twins stifled laughing.

“You can take the elite out of Iacon, but you can't take the _elite_ out of him,” Sideswipe said, snickering.

Hound frowned. “If he's not back by later tonight, Smokescreen knows his hiding spots. Have him go look.”

Trailbreaker nodded. “I will.”

Hound waved Mirage to follow him and they headed up the ramp together.

First Aid’s face heated when Trailbreaker walked over smiling at him.

“Hey, you.” Trailbreaker nervously rocked on his feet. “Um, since it's okay now… did you want to work on the puzzle a little more with me?”

“He’d love to!” Sideswipe said.

First Aid shyly smiled and nodded. “I have to finish telling you something important, too.”

“Then let’s go back to my quarters.” Trailbreaker offered his large hand. First Aid took it, and they walked up the ramp together. It felt good to be able to hold Trailbreaker’s hand like this. He hoped the truth wouldn't ruin everything...

...

Jazz crossed a section of unsteady flooring and made his way toward a row of rooms he'd not visited in vorns now. He switched off his headlights when he noticed a glow coming from one of the rooms.

Walking as silently as possible, he held up the broken pipe ready to fight. He heard talking, but it was just one voice speaking a dialect he'd never heard before.

Reaching the room that was lit, he carefully peered around the doorway edge. A mech wrapped in a thick, dark brown tunic had his chest lights on and busily chattered away to a clearly deceased mech across from him. There was a chunk of glowing energon on the floor, probably stolen from the vein. A light jangling sound drew Jazz’s attention back to the mech. He had piercings along the side of his head crest with loops of golden metal through them. He also had red stripes down the front of his face below each optic. Jazz had never seen a mech in such decor before. He was quite beautiful despite the fact he was insane and talking to a dead mech.

Jazz pulled back from the doorway, considering his options. Go in, risk a fight. Go back for help, risk this mech disappearing. He had nothing to bind the mech with, either. Assuming he did catch him.

The talking stopped.

Jazz tensed.

The strange mech poked his head out the door and they looked at one another for a moment.

The mech babbled something and ducked back into the room.

“Guess plan C? Just go in and hope for the best…?” Jazz was well trained, and one their group’s best fighters despite his smaller size. He entered the room, pipe at his side but ready to swing if he had to. He wanted to avoid an altercation if possible, though.

The mech inside took up a defensive fighting stance, protecting the deceased mech behind him. He shouted something at Jazz, but he couldn't understand him.

Jazz frowned. He didn't know what to do. “I don't wanna fight you.” Crouching down, he set the pipe on the ground then held up his empty hands. “See? Not armed.”

The mech narrowed his optics then lunged forward.

“Or not!” Jazz tried to react quickly.

They tussled, hand to hand combat style. This mech was fast, his moves smooth and unexpected. Jazz ended up on the floor, but he was just as good as this mech, using his position to his advantage and knocking the mech’s legs out from under him.

They rolled around the dark, dingy room, punching at one another. If this stranger was like all other mechs Jazz had fought, then a tug upward on his head should send him into a forced shutdown. Managing to get a headlock on the mech, he squeezed and pulled. The mech cried out, then his optics shuttered and he went limp.

Jazz panted. “Wasn't expecting you to be such a good fighter. Whew.” He turned his headlights on, examining the dead mech. By the looks of it he'd been dead for a while. “What the frag happened to you guys?”

Throwing the unknown mech over his shoulder, he got to his feet, and carried him back toward the encampment to hopefully get some answers. And also face Prowl.


	17. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making promises and building trust.

Coming to, Drift lit his optics. For a split second he was calm, then he remembered that strange mech with the optic band and their fight. He bolted upright, and discovered his wrist was bound to the strange table he'd been lying on.

He tugged, but the binding was strong. Panicking, he picked at the complicated knot with his free hand. He needed to get back to Gasket.

A white mech came out from a back room, and as soon as he saw Drift trying to undo the knot, jogged over. Putting his hands over the binding, he spoke in a calming manner. Drift couldn't understand the words, but he did know this mech was trying to soothe him.

“I have to get back to Gasket. I'm supposed to watch over him for fourteen days. Then I can leave him. Please, let me go,” Drift pleaded.

The mech made a funny face, then sat on the edge of the table next to Drift.

“Why am I tied up?” Drift asked, pulling on the binding. “I've done nothing wrong. I'll return the energon I took, if that's my crime.”

The mech said something, looking concerned.

Drift huffed, frustrated. He shouldn't have gotten caught. He also shouldn't have stolen energon, either. But he’d been so desperately hungry.

“Gasket, I'm sorry,” Drift murmured, trying not to let tears surface. He'd not only failed his friend but he'd gotten captured again.

The white colored mech spoke. He seemed to be asking a question. Drift shook his head. “I can't understand you.”

“Understand you more,” the white mech said.

Drift stared at him. “You spoke my words?”

The mech looked vaguely frustrated but not with Drift. He seemed annoyed he couldn't clearly explain something. “Your words. Need more.”

More of Drift’s words? His optics brightened as he remembered a white mech Megatron pulled around on a chain everywhere he went. They'd stopped at the cage where his tribe was kept. His tribal leader shouted to be released, and within a few sentences the slender white mech was translating his leader's words for Megatron.

“You have the magic of multiple languages?” Drift asked. “If I keep talking you'll understand me?”

The mech nodded.

Drift frowned. “I don't know what to say.”

Smiling, the mech pointed to himself. “Ratchet.” Then he pointed to Drift. “You?”

“My name is Drift.” He pulled on the binding. “Please untie me. I must return to Gasket. The death ritual is the very least I owe him. Please.”

“You know he is dead?” Ratchet asked, words stilted but correct.

“Of course. When a mech dies in my tribe, he's put on an altar. We all visit and talk with him until every trace of his spark is gone.” Drift began to tear up, despite his best efforts not to. “It takes fourteen days.”

“Gasket has gone more days than that,” Ratchet replied as best he could.

Drift winced. Tears escaping down his cheeks. Being in the tunnels he'd lost track of time.  “I failed him.” He bent forward, balling up on the table as much as he could with the exception of his arm tied to the side.

Ratchet put his arms around Drift, murmuring softly in his own language to comfort him. Drift didn't know this mech. By all rights he shouldn't trust him. But he was so tired by his months long ordeal, he pressed into the comforting hold and quietly cried.

…

“Look, I'm going to trust you two. I don't need to hear about your personal issues. I already know way more than I wish I did.” Ironhide sighed. “I'm staying out here, and you two should go into the other room and talk.”

Jazz glanced at Prowl.

Prowl gestured for Jazz to enter his berthroom.

Once they were inside, Prowl lowered the door covering then turned to face Jazz.

“I'm sorry—” they both said at once.

“You go first,” Prowl said.

Jazz frowned. “I never should’ve said what I did. I'm sorry, Prowl. You deserve someone strong and sure of himself.” He sighed. “I'm just not that mech.”

“How can you say that?” Prowl looked deeply upset. “You're perfect just as you are. I _love_ you just as you are.”

Shaking his head, Jazz couldn't look Prowl in the optic. He stared down at the floor. “I'm not Optimus. I'm not a Prime. I'm not even a Praxian. All I've ever done is follow you around like a lost turbo wolf. You're far more worthy a mech than a jerk like me deserves.”

“Don't be so stupid,” Prowl replied. He stepped closer, pulling Jazz’s chin upward to lock gazes. “I've loved you since before I knew what love really was. I'm _so_ sorry that what happened between me and Optimus has made you feel insecure. Please understand, I _never_ loved him. I only sought comfort for the loneliness I felt waiting for you.”

“If you don't love him, then why are you so obsessed with gettin’ him healed?” Jazz asked, voice wavering.

“Because I'm terrified of leading this group alone,” Prowl admitted. “I don't know how to be a good leader like Optimus. I _need_ you at my side to ground me. Tell me when I've gone too far or not far enough. You've always challenged me to do better, try harder. _I need you_ , Jazz.”

Suddenly Optimus’ prophetic words echoed in Jazz’s mind. _You and Prowl will be together. You will bond. One day Prowl will be in charge of this tribe and he will need you at his side to help him._

Jazz didn't want to invalidate the ceremony, but he knew they needed more than hand holding right now. He threw himself forward and they embraced each other tightly. “I need you, too. I love you more than I can say,” he whispered.

“When we finally bond, we won't have to rely on failing words. We’ll share how deep this love runs directly,” Prowl replied in a whisper, as if it were a promise.

They stood hugging for a long moment. Jazz didn't want to let go, but Prowl gently extricated himself and he was forced to.

Taking hold of Jazz’s hands in each of his, Prowl gazed at him adoringly. “My spark is yours. Stop doubting that fact. Trust me.”

Jazz nodded. “I trust you.”

“And on an unrelated note, next time you find a strange mech please don't approach him alone,” Prowl said, gaze shifting to scuffs all over Jazz’s arms and chest.

Jazz ducked his head. “Heh. Didn't want him gettin’ away.”

“I know. But still. Please be more vigilant.” Prowl half-smiled. “I already almost lost you to a stab wound only a couple weeks ago. I couldn't bear a life without you.”

“Can't get rid of me that easy…” Jazz sheepishly smiled. “So, we’re okay?”

“Yes. I think so,” Prowl replied.

“Good, now stop touching and get back out here,” Ironhide called from the front room.

They quickly let go of each other's hands, both chuckling.

Jazz still wasn't sure why Prowl loved him so much. He'd spent most of his life trying to impress him one way or another. But he decided not to give into his insecurities anymore. Prowl said he needed him, that he loved him, and that was more than enough.

…

Hound stood on the platform now raised above ground with Mirage. He fingered his hip armor at the latch. They'd have to remove their coverings to transform and travel.

“Funny we were just here a couple days ago,” Hound commented.

“Difference being, I'm not going to run away,” Mirage replied. He removed the fabric robe and folded it up. “If you transform first, I can stow our outfits and supplies.”

“Oh yeah. I have a storage area in vehicle mode.” He then turned sideways and unhooked his armor removing it.

Mirage took it from his grasp, then snuck a peek at Hound ‘undressed’.

“Hey now,” Hound said, waving at Mirage to look away. When Mirage didn't, he simply transformed. He opened his back hatch, and Mirage set their coverings, two clubs, and a container of energon inside.

Stepping back, Mirage also transformed. Seeing from vehicle mode was different than with their optics. Hound pulled around and his scanners fed him the image of Mirage’s sleek vehicle mode.

“Ready?” Mirage asked, revving his engine.

“Yeah. Let's go find us some healers!” Hound revved back, then took off toward the south.

Mirage easily sped past him and made wavy lines in the dusty ground. Hound didn't worry about driving over debris with his higher clearance and wheels, but worried Mirage might get something caught in his undercarriage. Up ahead, Mirage easily drove around anything potentially damaging without missing a beat, though.

Primus, Mirage was beautiful, graceful, and despite how mouthy he could be, Hound was definitely developing a crush. In fact a part of him liked that Mirage spoke his mind without any regret. He was different than anyone Hound had ever known before.

…

Settled in side by side, First Aid and Trailbreaker poked at the puzzle.

First Aid found his courage faltering, though. He kept trying to start talking, but couldn't seem to find the right words.

“Could you explain what you meant? About not having two creators or a sparklinghood?” Trailbreaker finally asked, breaking the silence.

Setting a puzzle piece in place, First Aid frowned and nodded. “I wasn't created like you. Like any of you.” He looked up at Trailbreaker. “In Kaon there's an ancient relic. It's called Vector Sigma. Our Prime, his name is Sentinel, found it. Inside of it there are millions of spark signatures stored. When it's activated it randomly combines two signatures and creates a new light spark. That is how my spark was made.”

Trailbreaker stared at First Aid, looking awed. Much like Glyph had the evening before. “That sounds incredible. You've been touched by Primus.”

First Aid shook his head. “You don't understand. I was created for a purpose. There's a shortage of healers and warrior mechs. They use the relic to create batches of specific types of mechs. I was from a group of mechs intended to be healers. The truth is, I failed their testing after I woke.”

“They test sparklings?” Trailbreaker asked.

“No, no. I was created as an adult. My spark was fully formed. I was put in an adult protoform,” First Aid explained.

Trailbreaker looked vaguely confused. “So, they used an ancient relic to just make more mechs?”

“Yes.” First Aid fingered a puzzle piece. “And I was slated to be extinguished because I wasn't what they wanted. Ratchet saved me.”

“That's horrible. Why would they kill mechs they'd created?” Trailbreaker asked.

“There's an energon shortage in Kaon and Iacon. They don't want a rejected creation consuming the limited supply. But Ratchet said it's still murder, so he threatened to expose them and then he assumed responsibility for me. He's taken care of me since,” First Aid explained.

Trailbreaker was visibly shaken, and took First Aid’s hand, holding it in his lap. “I hope in the future I'll be your protector as well.”

Shyly smiling, First Aid squeezed Trailbreaker's hand. “There's one other thing... See, I'm not as old as you. I'm much, much younger. You know, since I didn't go through being a sparkling.”

“Oh. How old are you?” Trailbreaker asked.

“I'm ten vorns old.”

First Aid watched a shocked look cross Trailbreaker's face.

“Ten? We have sparklings here older than you…”

First Aid set the puzzle piece he had down. He tried not to let his disappointment at Trailbreaker’s reaction show, but it was hard without his mask engaged. “I know.”

Neither said anything for a few long moments. First Aid’s spark hurt in anticipation of the loss he was about to have to endure. This was more than he ever expected to experience, though, and he’d have to find peace with the glimpse of happiness he’d had.

“You’ve never, um, _been_ with another mech?” Trailbreaker asked.

“You mean interface? No. And, um, you were my first kiss,” First Aid replied.

Trailbreaker’s mouth parted slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” First Aid asked.

“If I knew, I would have been, I dunno, better at it?” Trailbreaker replied, looking embarrassed.

First Aid sadly smiled. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been. You’ve been wonderful to me. I’m sorry I’m not what you want. I can’t help how I was made, though.”

Trailbreaker pulled First Aid’s hand to his chest, holding it over his spark. “You’re everything I’d ever want. And more. I’m just trying to wrap my mind around everything. I don’t want to take advantage of you, being so young.”

Unable to help it, First Aid smiled. “I might only be ten vorns old, and lack experience in certain areas, but I’m an adult. Just like you.”

“You aren’t like me at all,” Trailbreaker replied before kissing the tip of First Aid’s nose. “And that's a good thing.”

“So, you still want to court me?” First Aid asked, wanting to be sure.

“Very much. I think maybe we should just go slow is all,” Trailbreaker replied.

“Okay,” First Aid replied. He glanced at the puzzle. “Want to finish the puzzle?”

Trailbreaker slid an arm around First Aid’s waist, hugging him to his side. “Absolutely,” he replied.

First Aid couldn't help but wonder what ‘going slow’ meant. For the moment, Trailbreaker didn't seem like he wanted to end things, though. He'd take some comfort in the fact he'd not been rejected for being a Vector Sigma mech.

…

Once Drift had calmed some, Ratchet ran a series of quick diagnostics on him with the old scanner he'd managed to fix from Alpha Trion’s collection of tools. Other than suffering the effects of energon starvation, he noticed anomalies in his processor. There were also scuffs all over his thighs, which Ratchet inferred the cause of.

“You come from where?” Ratchet asked, finding Drift’s language wasn't translating as quickly as it had with the encampment mech’s language.

Drift looked up at Ratchet then pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his free arm around them. “Untie me.”

“I'm not supposed to,” Ratchet replied.

“Untie me. Please. I've not committed a crime, have I?” Drift asked, pulling on his bound wrist.

“No. But they worry you will harm them,” Ratchet replied, frowning at how silly he sounded trying to speak this mech’s dialect.

“That visor mech had a weapon. I did what I had to to protect Gasket,” Drift replied.

“But this is their home. They see you as an intruder,” Ratchet tried to explain, once again sitting on the medical berth with his balled up patient. His optics examined Drift’s helm, looking for a cause of the odd processor readings he'd gotten.

“You speak as if this is not your home. That you are not one of them. Have they captured you, too?” Drift asked.

“Sort of. But me and my adopted mechs proved ourselves and are invited to stay if we choose. Which we’re still deciding to be honest.” Ratchet offered a small smile. “See that warrior?” He said pointing to Optimus. “He's their leader. A Prime. But he got injured. Since then, they've gotten very protective of their group.” Finally, the translating software was working smoothly with Drift’s particular language.

“A Prime?” Drift looked impressed as he gazed at the large mech across the old medbay.

“Where did you come from? I know they're worried others may find their way here how you did,” Ratchet tried asking again.

“No one else will come the way we did. We found a loose panel of wall in a strange cave far away. We wandered the tunnels for…” Drift dimmed his optics. “I don't know. A long time.” Tears returned to his optics.

Ratchet didn't mean to upset his patient again. He gently placed a hand on Drift’s shoulder. “You're safe. I'm a healer. I won't let anything bad happen, okay?”

Drift gazed at him in wonder. “That is your promise to me?”

Ratchet couldn't help but chuckle. “That's my promise to you.”

Drift took hold of Ratchet's wrist, lifting his hand and placing it on the crest of his helm. He bowed his head. “Then I'm yours in return.”

“Uh, okay,” Ratchet replied, pulling his hand away, hoping he'd not just accidentally agreed to something maybe he shouldn't have…

“How's the intruder?” Prowl asked walking into the old medbay, pausing to bow before Optimus before approaching where Ratchet sat with Drift.

“He's suffering energon starvation symptoms, but overall he'll heal up.” Glancing at the bound wrist, he frowned. “He also wants to be untied.”

“I don't feel comfortable letting him loose. I saw firsthand the damages to Jazz,” Prowl replied, optics scrutinizing Drift.

“Will he untie me?” Drift asked.

“He's worried you'll hurt others,” Ratchet replied.

“I only want to complete the death ritual, then I'll be yours. I won't harm anyone. I promise. Please tell him I promise,” Drift pleaded.

“Mine?” Ratchet asked, optics bright.

“What did he say?” Prowl asked.

“Uh, he said he wants to visit his deceased friend to complete a ritual,” Ratchet explained, leaving out the second part.

“Tell him his friend’s body will be brought here shortly. After he's finished whatever ritual he wishes to perform, we will put him in the cemetery vault with our departed,” Prowl replied.

Ratchet glanced at Drift. “Your friend's body is being moved here now. He said they have a place they put their dead after you're done with the ritual.”

Drift’s optics got bright and he started yanking hard on his bound wrist. “No! They cannot touch him! Tell them not to touch him!”

“Why is he so upset?” Prowl asked, clearly concerned.

“He doesn't want any of you to touch his friend,” Ratchet quickly translated.

Prowl firmly nodded. “I'll be sure his body is left in place. Please relay my apologies for any disrespect we may have caused.” Prowl then swept back out of the old medbay.

Ratchet pat Drift’s arm. “He's going to stop them from touching him, okay?”

Drift looked miserable but nodded. “Untie me,” he pleaded again. “ _Please_.”

Ratchet ached for this mech. He was clearly traumatized and he knew a little kindness could go a long way toward building trust. “Alright. I'll only untie you if you promise not to run off or hurt anyone else. If you do either, I can't keep my promise to protect you. You understand?” Ratchet asked.

Drift held his gaze. Tears gleaming at the corners of his optics. “I promise that and all I am to you.”

Ratchet huffed at the reply, but decided he'd just explain things later to this mech. He then fingered the knot, his nimble fingers able to pull it apart.

As soon as it went slack, Drift slipped his hand free. Then he quickly shifted his body to kneel on the berth and lower his head, hands pressed together and held up toward Ratchet. “Thank you. This is my oath to you.”

“Okay, okay. No need for all that.” Ratchet got up. “How about we go and see your friend. Finish up your ritual.”

Drift fervently nodded, gracefully slipping off the berth. “Please take me to him.”

“Let’s go.” Ratchet waved Drift to follow him, and they left the old medbay.

He hoped he wouldn't anger Prowl by untying Drift, and hoped he'd not just gotten himself in trouble with the whole ‘promise to be his’ business. The clash of cultures here was almost dizzying.

 


	18. Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hound and Mirage centric. They go looking for healers and find much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two-fer post today! Another chapter posting after this...

The daylight began to wane. They'd driven for most of the day, so Hound veered toward a hilly area he hoped might offer some cover for the night. Mirage followed his lead, turning with him in the new direction.

Ahead, Hound scanned an outcropping they could use for cover and pulled up to it.

Mirage half spun out, coming to a stop in as showy a way possible before transforming. “This is where we’ll spend the night?” He asked looking around.

Hound popped his back hatch. “As good as we’ll get for cover in this area.”

Stooping down, Mirage pulled their armor and various supplies out.

Hound transformed and reached for his hip armor, only to have Mirage snatch it first and jog back a couple steps, laughing.

Face plates heating, Hound tried to cover himself with one arm while grabbing for the armor with his free hand. “What are you doing? Give me that!”

“But I rather like how you look without it,” Mirage replied, peering at Hound’s exposed frame.

“Primus, you're incorrigible! Please don't make me stand here exposed just because you prefer to walk around like that,” Hound pleaded.

“Oh alright. I'll take pity on you and your strange ways,” Mirage replied, handing over the armor.

Hound huffed in annoyance as he hooked it in place around his hips.

Mirage picked up his robe, which unfurled and billowed in the light wind as he slid it on.

“How is wanting to cover your intimate area a strange thing to do?” Hound asked.

Using the thin ties to secure his robe, Mirage shrugged. “I suppose it's not. But where I'm from, no one wears armor over their armor.”

“I have a hard time imaging a whole group just walking around naked,” Hound replied, unhooking the parts for a small crystal lamp from under the panels of his armor.

Mirage lifted the unusually large container cover for the energon, finding Hound had packed his kettle, extra crystals and a spare energizing dome to steep energon with. “They would have a hard time understanding why you'd bother covering yourself to be honest.” He glanced at Hound, smiling. “Shall we steep some energon?”

Hound nodded, smiling back.

They quietly set up their camp under the overhang of the hilly outcropped area. Soon they sat across from one another, watching the crystals burn brightly as they heated the kettle.

“I have to admit, I like it out here. It's much easier to enjoy the scenery without that obnoxious electromagnet around my neck,” Mirage said with a contented sigh, gazing out at the long shadows the hills cast as the distant star began to set.

“The Vosian Deceptions put a collar on you?” Hound asked, obviously disturbed by the idea.

“It was to stop me from using my invisibility cloak,”

Mirage replied with a small shrug.

“We shouldn't cross paths with them this far south,” Hound said, trying to offer some reassurance.

Mirage looked back at Hound, smiling in response to the kindness. “I know it may not seem like it, but I'm not miserable for the first time in my life. I never even considered just doing what I wanted instead of what was expected of me until you pointed it out.”

Hound felt a warmth surge inside his spark. “Well, unlike my fellow group members, I really like how you speak your mind without regret.”

“Oh? Who said I don't regret what I say?” Mirage replied, laughing.

Hound chuckled as he poured the liquid energon into a small cup for Mirage. “You know what I mean.”

Taking the filled cup, Mirage hummed his acknowledgment and took a sip, contentedly sighing after he swallowed. “Energon never tasted this good in Iacon, either. It's riddled with impurities so they add other things to mask the unpleasant flavor.”

“The energon from the vein below our home is the best I've had, too.” Hound broke off a piece of the raw energon and popped it in his mouth.

They sat in mutual silence, each enjoying the quiet moment of refueling after a long day of driving.

Hound gazed at the pink and orange light of the setting star reflecting off the white parts of Mirage’s armor. He was such an unusual looking mech to Hound. Beautiful, really.

“Two more days of driving?” Mirage asked, after finishing the steeped energon.

“Hm. I don't know.” Hound glanced around. “We made it really far in one day. I think we might reach the southern mountains by tomorrow night.”

“That's where these ‘healers’ are located?” Mirage asked while stowing the cup in the container.

“I haven't seen them since I was a sparkling. But, yeah. They used to occupy an extensive series of caves. They had all sorts of interesting equipment they used to fix Optimus last time.” Hound lifted a panel of his hip armor, pulling a clear tube with a nanite sample Ratchet gave him out of a hidden pocket. “Hopefully this holds the answer to saving him now.”

“ _Hopefully_ those healers are where you last left them,” Mirage replied with a small frown.

…

The next day they continued their journey. Driving through the hills and then across a large open flatland, heading straight for a large mountain range looming in the distance.

Mirage hadn't recharged as well as he would have liked. He'd spent a significant amount of time lying on his side watching Hound recharge on the opposite side of the small lamp they'd left lit. Mirage had developed quite a crush on him and unlike Iaconian mechs, he was at a loss as to how to let Hound know of his interest. He'd flirted all he could and more, yet Hound remained completely cordial.

“Mirage?”

Coming out of his dazed thoughts, he turned his scanners toward Hound beside him as they sped across the flatlands. “I'm sorry, yes?”

“Oh, ah, I was just commenting that we’ll reach the healers’ area just after darkness if you want to push on after starset,” Hound explained loudly over the winds whipping around them as they drove.

“As long as we fuel right when we arrive, I have no problem going the extra distance,” Mirage replied.

Hound revved his engine in reply. A happy sort of sound that made Mirage internally smile.

They covered ground at top speed and as the light began to wane on the second day, the once distant mountains now towered before them. They pushed on as the colored sky soon turned dark. Glittering distant stars offered some illumination but they relied on their headlights to expose any obstacles ahead.

Mirage’s fuel tank started to ping. “I need to fuel soon.”

“Okay. Um, I'm picking up a cave just up ahead. Let's spend the night there. We’ll search in the morning.” Hound led the way toward what Mirage couldn't see. Hound’s scanners were quite powerful compared to his own.

They finally reached the jagged edge of the mountainous area and stopped. Mirage transformed and removed the supplies from Hound’s storage. He was too tired from the long drive to feel very playful, though. He simply slipped on his robe and picked up the container of energon.

Hound put his armor on, and picked up the clubs. “Are you alright?”

“I need to fuel,” Mirage admitted.

“The cave is right up there.” Hound pointed. “Want me to carry the container?”

Mirage glanced up, seeing they had a bit of a climb to make. “Perhaps we best switch what we're carrying, yes.”

“I can steep energon here for you before we head up. I don't want you to get sick from lack of fuel.” Hound took the container from Mirage’s grasp.

Not wanting to seem frail, Mirage shook his head. “No, no. I'll be fine. Let's just get up to safety.”

Hound looked worried, but he nodded.

They slowly climbed up the jagged ground. Hound was ahead and he suddenly disappeared into darkness.

Mirage started to panic at losing sight of him. “Hound? Where are you?” he called out, clinging to the mountainous terrain.

Light appeared and Hound held his arm out. “Found the cave. Take my hand.”

Mirage took firm hold, and Hound helped pull him up into the shallow cave area. The ground was uneven, but it would suffice. Swaying on his feet, Mirage’s fuel tank pinged that it was nearly dry.

Hound caught Mirage before he tripped. “You aren't alright. I should've made you fuel sooner. Come here, sit.”

“I'm fine, really.” Mirage wanted to push Hound away out of habit, but he was too tired.

Hound sat him down on a flatter area, then quickly set up the kettle. Once it was heating, he also set up the lamp, illuminating his worried look as he glanced at Mirage.

“Primus, stop looking at me like that,” Mirage snapped. “I'm not going to die.”

Looking back at the kettle, Hound’s wounded expression made Mirage feel guilty.

Mirage pulled his robe tighter, hugging his arms around his middle. He felt strangely exposed now. His racer build made him much more vulnerable to life outside Iacon. He didn't want to appear weak around Hound, preferring the wildland mech saw him as strong and beautiful. He was failing miserably at that illusion, though.

Without thinking, Mirage initiated his invisibility cloak. An old habit from stuffy parties he was forced to attend in Iacon. When he felt out of place he'd simply disappear and sneak off.

“I can see your fabric robe, still.” Hound smiled a little, picking up the kettle and pouring the liquid energon into the cup. He then held it out for invisible hands.

Taking the cup, Mirage kept his invisibility cloak engaged and took a long sip of the much needed fuel. “I don't like how you make me feel.”

“I'm sorry… What did I do?” Hound asked.

“I've flirted with you. I've teased you. I've even strut around ‘naked’. But no matter what I do, you don't seem interested in me at all. Instead, I'm just a pathetic mech from a city you look after because that Prowl mech told you to,” Mirage replied.

Hound looked genuinely surprised. “I, ah, well I'm certainly _interested_. I just, I'm not good at relationships to be honest. I hurt someone I care about really badly, and I promised myself I wouldn't do that again.”

Mirage disengaged his cloak, reappearing. “You're the sweetest mech I've ever met, how in the world did you hurt anyone?”

Hound sat down on the cave floor next to Mirage. “You don't know a lot about me.”

Staring at the side of Hound’s face, Mirage felt his spark stir. “Then tell me about you.”

Sadly smiling, Hound pulled off a chunk of energon and popped it in his mouth. He chewed then swallowed before turning to look at Mirage. “First, I should admit, I've grown very fond of you. So if I'm overbearing at all, it's because I feel protective of you.”

Mirage’s face heated. “See? Kindest mech I've ever met.”

Hound half-smiled. “I'm not like most of our group members. They all were created by bonded couples. They were wanted. Alpha Trion encouraged them despite their ages to procreate.” Hound focused on the lamp. “I was an accident. Created by two mechs that were not bonded. The one that didn't carry me eventually left the group. And my other creator resented caring for me.”

“That's awful. I'm sorry,” Mirage quietly replied.

“So pretty much everyone I grew up with all believed in this ideal version of love because they saw that in their own creators. When we became adults, we all experimented with interfacing, trading partners a lot. But soon everyone either settled with just one partner or ended up without anyone at all.” Hound frowned a little. “I was with Trailbreaker. But it wasn't about love for me. I just, well, not to sound crude, but I like interfacing. I really enjoyed it with him. But I never considered that he might think it was more until he professed his love and asked me to bond to him.”

Mirage fingered his empty cup. The wildlands were so very different than the world he grew up in. Professing love was something an elite would never do. “What happened? You seem to be friends now.”

“I turned him down, and we were no longer together. It hurt him. I've felt pretty guilty about it since. After a long while, we began rebuilding our friendship, though. I'm still trying to fix what I broke with him. I almost destroyed our friendship over First Aid, but I realized how good the healer is for him. So I tried to help. I always try to help, but oftentimes I end up making a mess instead.” Hound softly sighed.

Mirage placed his hand on Hound’s knee. “I'm sorry I snapped at you. It's not about you doing anything wrong. It's about me wanting to impress you and failing miserably at it.”

Hound gazed at Mirage. “You don't need to impress me. I already can't hardly take my optics off you. I adore how strong-willed you are.”

Mirage then smiled. “Well, if that's the case, then you better kiss me,” Mirage replied with a small smile.

“Bossing me around now, hm?” Hound chuckled.

“If that's what you like, then yes,” Mirage replied with a mischievous smile.

Hound grinned in response, then cupped Mirage’s cheek, pulling him into a kiss. Their lips melded together, and Mirage felt his spark pulse faster. He'd never imagined he'd be out in the middle of uncharted territory throwing himself at a handsome wildland mech, but here he was. Head over heels for a mech his creators would be horrified by.

Pulling back slightly, Mirage gazed deeply into the pretty pools of blue light that were Hound’s optics. “I enjoy interfacing, too. I maybe a little skittish after my time in captivity, though.”

“I'm in no rush.” Hound kissed Mirage again, lips lingering. “I'll wait as long as it takes.”

“Stop being so perfect,” Mirage teased.

“Only when you stop being gorgeous,” Hound replied with a grin.

Mirage laughed. “Well that'll never happen.”

Hound nuzzled their noses. “We should rest. Lots of climbing and searching for the healers tomorrow.”

Mirage hummed in agreement.

Unlike the night before, this time Hound laid on his back, pulling Mirage down to recharge next to him. Snuggling against his companion, Mirage felt true contentment pulsing inside his spark. All because of this one mech.

…

Hound woke with a beautiful, exotic mech curled up against him. He'd tried to be respectful and not let his attraction overtake his good manners. At the same time his spark was pulsing fast and hard with excitement at the prospect of more with Mirage. He honestly found true love to be a silly notion, but lying here now he started to wonder if it wasn't such a ridiculous idea.

Mirage shifted, softly whimpering. Memory feedback, most likely. This wasn't the first time Hound had witnessed Mirage’s fitful recharge, but this time he could comfort him. He gently drew circles with his fingertips against Mirage’s lower back, and murmured into his audio that he was safe.

After a moment, Mirage’s optics lit. He grasped at Hound, shaking slightly.

“No one will harm you,” Hound said in calm voice.

The shaking soon subsided and Mirage huffed, looking annoyed. “Next time I see a flying monster, I'm ripping his spike off as a trophy.”

Hound kissed the top of Mirage’s helm. “I'll help.”

Mirage hugged himself to Hound. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Hound asked, arm wrapping around Mirage.

“Being who you are.” Mirage relaxed.

Hound nuzzled Mirage’s helm and they laid together in comforting silence for a few minutes. Finally, Mirage stretched and then sat up, looking out the entry of the cave.

“We should go look for those healers, hm?” Mirage said, playfully poking at Hound’s side.

“We should.” Hound sat up, and took a moment to just gaze at Mirage. He hadn't felt like this about anyone before. Part of him wanted to stretch this moment out forever. He leaned in to kiss Mirage again, wanting to feel the tingling burst of happiness fill his spark one more time before they continued on with the mission.

Mirage happily reciprocated, glossae grazing teasingly between connected but parted lips. Hound knew once the kiss ended that he was doomed to fall hard for this mech. Overwhelmed at the idea, so he nervously smiled, then got up and started to pack away their camp items.

…

Mirage sighed. They'd been walking around for hours. Hound led the way, picking their way around the sharp edged terrain. Mirage didn't think it would be _this_ hard to find these mechs. And despite the rubber soles on his pedes, they were beginning to ache from so much climbing around.

“I thought you knew where they were,” Mirage whined.

“I haven't been here since I was a youngling. It's hard to remember exactly where—” Hound halted, arm out to stop Mirage as well. His optics grew bright as he looked around as if he'd sensed something.

Mirage looked everywhere but didn't see anything. Only uneven terrain and large rocks. “Why did we–”

Hound cut off Mirage. “Shh!”

Annoyed, Mirage scowled at Hound. “Don't shush me!”

A loud growl accompanied a huge white and blue turbo jaguar that jumped down from a ledge just above. Hound bodily blocked the mechanimal from landing on Mirage, shoving him back and sustaining a gash in his arm. Whipping the club off his hip armor, he kept Mirage behind him, and bopped the turbo jaguar on the nose, which made it jump back and growl.

“It's huge!” Mirage said, grasping at Hound’s waist. He then saw energon dribbling down Hound’s arm from the swipe he'd taken. “You're hurt.”

“I want you to slowly back away. I'll fight it, but I don't want you in harm’s way,” Hound said.

“No way. We fight together.” Mirage unhooked the second club from Hound’s hip armor and dropped the container of energon to the ground.

“I'd argue, but you won't listen, will you?” Hound asked, optics locked on the turbo jaguar who was stalking forward slowly.

“You know me so well already,” Mirage replied.

The turbo jaguar then leapt at them, knocking Hound to the ground. He used his club to block a clawed paw from harming him further.

Mirage felt a protective instinct kick in, and he whacked the jaguar on the back of his head. The creature spun around and growled. Without thinking, Mirage shouted at him in his own language. “Stop it you infernal beast! Leave him alone!”

The turbo jaguar froze, optics no longer narrowed. He stepped off Hound.

“You understand me?” Mirage asked in his language.

The jaguar roared in reply.

“What just happened?” Hound asked, scooting away from the beast.

“He understood my command in my native language,” Mirage replied.

“Aww, _what?_ ” echoed off the mountain walls.

Both Mirage and Hound turned their heads toward who’d spoken. On a ridge a good distance away stood two mechs. One was obviously quite old, holding up a large sword pointed their direction. The other was smaller and bright red with a flame paint job.

Mirage instantly recognized the family marking on the younger one. “You're from the Rod family in Iacon!” He shouted in the wildland dialect, pointing at the younger one.

“He is part of our tribe,” the older one replied. “Why are you two trespassing on the edge of our territory?”

The turbo jaguar sat back on its haunches, patiently waiting for a command.

Hound got to his feet. “We’re looking for the healers that once lived here.”

“They live with us now,” the younger one replied.

The older one whacked his helm. “Don't tell them that!”

“We require their assistance. Our Prime may die and they are the only ones that can help him,” Hound replied.

“A Prime? A true Prime?” the elder one asked.

“Quite genuine,” Mirage replied.

The older one lowered his weapon. “Call your pet back,” he said to the younger mech. “You two may ask our leader. If he thinks your request is worthy, he'll let you meet with the healers.”

“Come on back, Glit!” The younger one said in a blended wildland and city dialect. The turbo jaguar instantly responded, climbing back up toward them.

Mirage glanced at Hound. “How bad is your wound?”

Hound smiled. “Looks worse than it is. Promise. But let's be cautious around these mechs.”

“Absolutely,” Mirage agreed.

They started the climb up toward the two strange mechs. Mirage hoped they weren't in over their heads.


	19. Cult

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drift centric. His journey in life hasn't been easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See changes in tags. More explicit chapter.

Youngling age-

Drift woke. His fuel tank pinged that it was nearly empty. He rolled over in his tiny berth, looking at his best friend, Gasket, in the next berth over.

They were each created by accident and left by their creators at the only semi-functioning governmental facility in Tarn. It was like a fortress in the middle of the destroyed city where those lucky enough to be created by the first generation survivors of the cataclysm lived. Other survivors flocked to Tarn only to find the city mechs had locked themselves in the central building and only allowed first generation sparkline mechs to come and go. Lawlessness ruled outside the walls of this place. Soon Drift and Gasket would be upgraded to adults and sent beyond the walls to fend for themselves.

Whether it was guilt for what they had inside or a genuine desire not to let sparklings suffer, they always took in sparked mechs to the basement facility, helped them finish the creation process, and then raised the sparklings here. It was a dark place, though. Filled with neglect, lack of proper fuel, and caregivers that looked down on them like deviants.

Drift wasn't sure he wanted to be part of the outside world, but the pain in his fuel tank made him think it couldn't be worse than this. As long as he and Gasket stayed together, they’d figure out how survive.

…

Young Adult age-

Drift purged his tank, spitting transfluid on the ground. He'd pleasured a central building mech who insisted on him swallowing.

Gasket frowned at him. “You okay?”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Drift nodded. “How much did he give you for me doing that?”

“Two pure electronium discs. We can trade these for decent fuel at the outpost,” Gasket replied.

They'd been on the streets outside the central building for a few months. They quickly learned sexual favors paid best, and Drift attracted all sorts of attention because of his looks. Gasket took on the role of lookout and handled the payments. Drift sucked on spikes and allowed mechs to spike him if he was asked, but always made sure to purge after the ‘client’ was gone if he'd been forced to swallow. They had carved out a small living space in an old building, boobytrapping it to prevent anyone from stealing what meager belongings they'd acquired.

Electronium fetched the best trades since it was used to build boosters for junkies addicted to them. Mechs from the central building would come outside to use the pleasure mechs, paying in valuable metals, which were traded for fuel. So far Drift and Gasket hadn't fallen victim to allure of boosting, hoping to one day leave Tarn. But everyday was a struggle here.

Gasket helped Drift to his feet, gently wiping up what he'd missed from his face. “Maybe I should do it next time.”

“Nah, it's okay. I don't mind too much,” Drift replied. “Let's get some energon.”

They walked to the trading post, and stood in line. The stench here was almost unbearable. Smelting pools behind the trading outpost created a foul odor. Finally reaching the counter, Drift felt his fuel tank churning from both the pain of it being empty after he purged and the horrible scent that hung in the air.

“Energon please,” Gasket said, sliding the electronium discs to the clerk on the other side.

The clerk inspected them, and bit into each one to confirm they were real. Satisfied, he tossed them into a bin and then grabbed four rations off a shelf. He dropped them on the counter. “Next!” He yelled.

Gasket quickly scooped up the fuel and he and Drift quickly left.

“We can make this last a couple weeks if we’re careful,” Gasket said, smiling at Drift.

Drift forced a smile in response, but he felt dizzy and stumbled.

“Drift?” Gasket looked worried. “You need some now? Here, take it.” He waved one of the packets at Drift urging him to have it.

But the world was spinning, and Drift passed out without warning.

…

Waking, Drift was confused. He'd been on the streets with Gasket moments before hadn't he? Sitting up in the plush berth, he squeezed at the thick padding. Looking around he saw ornate etchings decorating the walls of the well-lit room he was in. Where was he? More importantly, where was Gasket?

He slid off the berth, and walked to the doorway. Peering into a huge room next to the one he'd woken in, he saw it was filled with beautiful furniture and painted in bright clean-looking colors, Drift’s mouth opened in awe.

“You should rest more, young mech,” a voice called to him.

Stepping out, he saw possibly the most gorgeous mech he'd ever laid optics on in his short life sitting demurely on a couch.

“Where is my friend?” Drift asked.

The mech chuckled. “That wasn't the first question I expected you ask.” The mech patted the couch beside him. “Sit.”

Drift did as he was told. He sat down next to the beautiful mech. “So where is he?”

“Resting, like you should be,” the mech replied. “He's in the room next to yours.”

“Mine?” Drift was confused. “That room is really all mine?” Had he died? Was this the Well of Allsparks?

“It certainly is. I found your friend sobbing next to you passed out in the trading district in Tarn. I couldn't leave you both there like that.”

“Are we in the central building?” Drift asked.

The mech laughed, shaking his head. “No, no. I brought you both home with me to the Crystal City Temple.”

Had Drift glitched? He must have misheard. “We’re not in Tarn?”

“Nope.” The mech smiled. “I'm Wing, by the way. Your friend said your name was Drift. Is that right?”

“Yeah. I'm Drift,” he replied, still unsure what was going on.

“I offered you both a new life in exchange for your commitment to the Temple of Primus,” Wing said. “You weren't in any condition to accept, but Gasket assured me you would.”

“What do I have to do if I accept?” Drift asked.

“You will be assigned daily duties to help maintain the Temple. You will be required to take part in ceremonies to please Primus. It's a peaceful life. You'll never go without proper fuel again here,” Wing explained.

Drift thought on it for a moment, then nodded firmly. “Then I accept!”

Wing brightly smiled. “Excellent.”

…

Four weeks later-

“But these are boosters,” Gasket said, holding the small device in his hand.

Drift frowned at his, too, but didn't say anything.

“This is how we connect with Primus, young ones,” Dai Atlas explained, sitting down in his large throne next to the Temple altar. “Wing will guide you. Trust my most trusted.”

Drift and Gasket sat on a mat on the altar side by side.

Wing walked around and pat Gasket’s helm. “Drift will surely participate to reach Primus’ guiding light. Don't you also want to?”

Exchanging looks with each other, Gasket shrugged. Drift looked up at Wing who warmly smiled.

“You do this, too?” Drift asked.

Wing squatted down next to Drift, took hold of his hand and pressed his fingers to the side of his helm next to the crest. “Feel the indents?”

Drift nodded, suddenly unable to speak with Wing so close to him. He had an undeniable attraction to him, but Wing belonged to their leader, Dai Atlas.

“Then why aren't you doing this with us?” Gasket piped up.

Wing turned to look at Gasket. “You require facilitation. I will talk you across the breach.”

Drift had seen lots of mechs glitched out of their minds in Tarn. Mechs with uncontrollable tremors from frying their processors. But how terrible could boosting be if Wing did it and seemed so enlightened? Maybe those mechs in Tarn just weren't doing it right.

Deciding it was worth trying, Drift lifted the booster up to helm. Wing adjusted it in his grasp and pressed the pointed pins into the side of his helm crest. Wing then pivoted to Gasket, helping him place his correctly.

Moving to sit in front of both of them, Wing laced his fingers in his lap. “When I say so, press the booster slowly into your helms. It will sting, but put aside your discomfort. Once it penetrates, the charge will fill your processor, allowing you to free yourself of your body. Stay calm. Remain relaxed.”

Drift cycled a breath of air to calm himself.

“Press it in now,” Wing commanded.

Drift made a face as it poked through his plating and connected. At first all he felt was searing pain then suddenly it stopped, replaced by a thick velvety sensation enveloping his entire being. In the distance he heard Wing.

“Primus is inside each spark that pulses. Look inside your spark…”

Lost in a sea of sensation and yet being numb at the same time, Drift heard his own spark pulsing. It pulsed louder and louder until he was sure he'd be deafened then suddenly he was inside a glowing shaft of light. It felt incredible. Seductive. Warm. Safe. Exhilarating. So this was Primus’ light? Drift happily gave himself over to it.

…

Many vorns later-

Walking through Tarn behind Wing, Drift couldn't help but look upon the place he'd been created in with disdain. They approached the trading outpost he and Gasket used to come to so long ago, before he'd joined the Circle of Light tribe.

“A full carton of boosters, please,” Wing said, placing several pieces of varying valuable metals on the counter.

The clerk grunted, scooping them all up and then tossing them into the appropriate bins. Once sorted, he pulled a full carton off the shelf and handed it to Wing.

Mechs milling around stared with bright optics at the pair. Wing tucked the container under his arm, and purposely moved his hip sword by the hilt to flash at the junkies staring at their coveted item. “Don't even think about it,” Wing said before strutting out of the outpost with Drift behind him.

They walked quickly back to their rolling transport. Drift jogged ahead, unlocking it for Wing. They boarded and then locked the heavy door behind them.

Wing handed the box to Drift, and then sat down at the controls. He started the engine and steered them out of Tarn and back toward the Crystal City.

Drift sat down in the passenger seat, fingering the box in his lap. “I wonder if I'll ever have someone to pledge my oath to.”

“Of course you will,” Wing replied. “Primus will reveal a mech to you when it's time. A promise made as your protector will come.”

“I wish I could make the oath to Gasket,” Drift said, frowning.

“Your protector must be an elder, you know that. You continue to perform with me on the altar during Times of Trials and one day an elder will choose you. Just like I was chosen,” Wing replied.

Drift nodded. His next Time of Trial was only days away. He glanced at Wing, glad that of all the mechs in the hierarchy, it was Wing he performed with.

…

“You look so pretty,” Gasket said, fingers trailing over the hoop piercings in Drift’s side helm crest. “I can't wait to watch you with Wing.”

Drift shyly smiled. “I wish I didn't get so nervous. I know everyone does it, but still.”

Gasket quickly glanced around to be sure they were alone in the preparation area. Then he stole a quick kiss from Drift. “You look beautiful overloading. Don't be nervous.”

Drift smiled at his best friend.

The door to the room opened. “Come on now,” Axe said, gesturing for Drift to come with him.

Getting to his feet, he tightened the ceremonial robe around his frame. It was thicker than his usual tunic, made of a shiner material. He followed Axe who led him down the corridor and up the back set of stairs to the altar.

Waiting patiently, Wing stood arms folded behind him. His own robe glittered under the bright lighting aimed at the altar. Around them the rest of the tribe sat on the floor, eager to bear witness to their performance.

Drift approached Wing.

The leader of their tribe, Dai Atlas, held up his cane of wisdom, hushing the gathered tribe members. “Today we bear witness to Wing taking of Drift for the Time of Trial. Wing belongs to me under oath, but Drift is unclaimed. There are several elders who have yet to claim a member. Perhaps today’s performance will light Primus’ spark inside you to pledge your protection to Drift.” He stepped back and settled in on the large thrown at the altar’s side.

Wing smiled at Drift, then stepped forward, gently untying the knot holding the ceremonial robe closed. It fell open, and Wing turned Drift to face the tribe before moving behind him to slip it off him slowly, exposing his bared frame to the captive audience. Drift stood still, despite wanting to squirm and turn away from the sea of optics staring at him.

White hands groped Drift’s body, teasing sensitive parts of his frame to warm him up. He dimmed his optics, feeling the rush of heat to his array despite the nervous flutter of his fuel tank being under so much scrutiny.

Wing cupped his interface cover. “Open. Show them how beautiful you are.”

Drift clenched his dentia, then retracted the cover exposing his semi-online spike. Wing stood behind him, stroking his spike with one hand while the other massaged the platelets lining the leading edge of his valve. Drift whimpered, his spike jumping in the hand massaging it.

Wing stopped teasing his valve for a moment. He felt the fabric of the robe between them slip away. Then he felt the hard head of Wing’s spike rub against his valve entrance. “I will enter this sacred body. Bring it Primus’ gift of pleasure.”

Drift couldn't help but whimper as the length of Wing’s spike slid into him. He trembled despite his best efforts. It was part of why he'd not been chosen yet. He wasn't able to control his body as well as the others. Wing tried to help him by taking it slow, thrusting into him long smooth strokes. But it only felt more intense and Drift started to pant. Between the expert way Wing impaled him and way he squeezed his spike in same rhythm, Drift came undone quickly.

Wing playfully bit and mouthed the back of Drift’s neck. “You're going to overload with me in three…” he thrust then pulled partway out. “Two…” He thrust and stroke Drift’s spike with firm force. “One.” Pushing to the hilt, hot fluid flooded Drift’s valve. On command his body overloaded. His spike left a messy trail of fluid across his own chest and abdomen as his valve squeezed Wing’s perfect spike hard in spasms. He did his very best to only whimper. They believed silent overloads held the most pleasure but he wasn't quite there yet.

He trembled as the wave of pleasure crested then passed through him. Wing held him against his body to steady him, then withdrew, leaving Drift feeling empty.

Dai Atlas stood up. “Any elders interested, please come examine Drift as Primus created him.”

Four elders got to their feet and climbed up on the altar. Drift leaned against Wing who lightly rested his hands on his hips. The elders touched Drift’s exposed frame. Each one pressed a finger into the fluid on his chest and belly and tasted. Two looked disgusted by his taste, but the other two seemed to like it. Drift wanted to be claimed so he could pledge his oath and no longer be required to perform this way. But in the end all four elders stepped down.

“Perhaps Primus will shine his light on you next time,” Dai Atlas said. “Wing, you may bathe him.”

Drift was led back off the altar and down to the baths in the lower levels. He wasn't allowed to redress until he was clean. He stepped into the warm water and sunk down, frowning.

Wing removed his own robe and joined Drift. “Don't be upset. You did much better this time.”

Heavily sighing, Drift shook his head. “I always make noise. I try so hard not to.”

“It comes with practice,” Wing replied. “Dai Atlas approved of me to practice with you as much as you need.”

Drift nodded and forced a smile.

Wing reached up out of the bath, cupping Drift’s face. “You are desirable. When we use the boosters tomorrow to reach Primus, ask him to guide you on your path. Ask him to show you how to hold all that pleasure inside of you.”

“I will,” Drift replied.

…

Fifteen weeks ago-

“You cannot keep us locked up like this!” Dai Atlas bellowed.

Drift stood with Gasket near the back of their cage.

Vosian Deceptions leered at them from all sides. The flying mech’s leader wasn't like them, though. He was large with a black weapon that spewed fire. Drift had watched him use it to kill several of the elders when they stormed into the Temple and took them hostage.

The silver mech spoke in a growled low voice. The thin white mech on a chain at his side then spoke their language, translating. “He says each of you will be used in trades as pleasure slaves. There is nothing you can do or say to change your fate.”

Dai Atlas railed against the cage bars. “We are sacred! We are the Circle of Light! Primus himself has blessed us! How dare you do this!”

The silver mech scoffed as his words were translated. Then he turned and stalked away.

For the first time since he and Gasket were tossed out on the streets of Tarn, Drift was genuinely worried about their fate. He laced his fingers with Gasket’s. “Primus blessed or not, we aren't dying here or getting separated,” Drift whispered to his best friend.

Gasket nodded. “First chance we get, we run.”

…

Now-

Drift obediently followed Ratchet. He never imagined an elder mech would offer to protect him without seeing him perform, but he certainly wasn't going to pass up the offer, making sure he'd pledged his oath in return.

The black and white mech with non-functional wings came swiftly walking their direction, speaking quickly and appearing upset.

Ratchet spoke his language and after a moment, the black and white mech calmed. He frowned, looking at Drift. Then gestured for them to follow him.

They entered the tunnels and Drift stayed close to Ratchet. The black and white mech took them to the room where Gasket’s body had been left. There were more mechs here. A large red one, the smaller visored mech, and yet another non-functioning winged mech in silver.

“They have a tomb your friend can be moved into. Would that be alright with you?” Ratchet asked.

Drift nodded. “I just need to say goodbye. Can I have a moment alone with him?”

Ratchet translated and the black and white mech nodded. They all filed out of the room leaving Drift with Gasket.

He knelt down next to his best friend’s body, and took hold of his cold hand. “I know you lied about how much fuel you needed in order to save me. I'm mad you've left me alone in the world after we spent our whole lives together. But I love you so much at the same time. I hope your spark finds peace in the Well of Allsparks. If any of your spark is still here, please let go. I'll be alright. I even managed to pledge my oath, so I won't be alone. I'll be protected.” He leaned down and kissed Gasket’s still lips. “I'll always love you the most,” he whispered.

Tears filled his optics, then skipped down his cheeks. He got to his feet and looked at Ratchet. “I've released him.”

Ratchet stepped back into the room, and put an arm around Drift. “Let’s go back and let them move his body, okay?”

Drift gazed into the face of his protector, sadly smiling as more tears flowed down his face. He thought he'd die with Gasket, or else end up all alone in this cruel world. Instead he'd been led by Primus’ light to Ratchet. The chosen mech for him. He leaned into Ratchet’s partial embrace. “Okay.”

 


	20. Shaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone does their part. Truths are revealed. Confusion abounds.

Worried about Hound’s wound, Mirage frowned as he looked at his arm. Hound didn't seem bothered, though. They reached the two mechs and the pet turbo jaguar on the upper ledge, but kept a purposeful distance between them.

“I'm Hound. This is my traveling companion, Mirage. Thank you for your offer of help,” Hound said.

The older mech frowned. “I'm Kup. This is Hot Rod. I'm not offering help. Just offering to take you to see our leader. You can ask him for help.”

“Appreciated nonetheless,” Hound replied.

Hot Rod pet the turbo jaguar’s head then gave it a small glowing energon treat. Mirage was intrigued to see such a young member of an elite family from Iacon out here. Mirage might even know his creators. He'd try to find out more once they reached this group’s home.

“Follow us,” Kup said, striding away. Hot Rod grinned at Hound and Mirage then followed the older mech with his pet trotting along behind.

Hound and Mirage exchanged looks before joining the three. Without words, they knew to stick together and protect one another if this ended up going sideways.

Kup led them up and through a pass. It was steep, and Mirage started to struggle to keep up. He hugged the energon container to his chest and did his best not to fall behind but his pedes were very sore, despite the soft rubber covers he'd been wearing since they left.

Hound kept his gaze mostly pinned on the two mechs and pet turbo jaguar, but he did glance at Mirage to be sure he was okay. “Your feet hurt?” Hound asked.

“I'm not really built for the wildlands. The world here is hard and I'm soft,” Mirage replied with a frown.

“You aren't soft. Trust me,” Hound said with a lopsided smile.

Mirage felt his face heat at the compliment. It was definitely a strange shift to enjoy a compliment not based on his looks, speed, or special ability.

“So this is our home,” Kup said, stopping at the crest of the pass just ahead.

When Mirage and Hound reached them they were awe struck. Below sat a valley surrounded by mountains and filled with an extensive village. Small buildings dotted the rolling landscape. Large crystals grew so high they shaded areas. Mirage even saw a garden of varying crystals that seemed to be carefully manicured.

“Pretty nice, huh?” Hot Rod said with a huge grin.

“Impressive,” Mirage replied.

“Hot Rod, take your pet and go see if Elita and her crew need help with mineral transport,” Kup ordered.

“But I wanna see what Ultra Magnus says to them,” Hot Rod replied with a pout.

“ _Go_.” Kup shooed the young mech.

“Good luck you guys!” Hot Rod said before running down the trail and veering to the right with Glit chasing after him.

“This way,” Kup groused as he began to walk toward a large building in the middle of the village.

Hound and Mirage followed, staying side by side.

The mechs in the village peered out of their small homes to stare at the strangers. That's when Mirage noticed something curious about the inhabitants.

“There is a large number of _large_  mechs here,” Mirage whispered to Hound.

“That is sorta weird, huh?” Hound agreed.

The large middle building had a porch area they stepped up onto. Some sparklings were playing on the far end, all of which stopped to stare at Hound and Mirage as they were led inside.

The front room of the building looked like a dining hall. Tables and chairs filled the open space. Mirage caught sight of Hound’s confused look and chuckled. His group didn't use this sort of furniture. They always sat on the floor and preferred low tables.

Kup then took them down a short hallway which had a office at the end. Sitting at a large desk, surrounded by weight scales, bags of mineral power and datapads was yet another large mech. He paused his measurement, and looked at the strangers before glancing at Kup.

“We have visitors?”

“Yeah, me and Roddy were checking the perimeter and found them. They wanna talk with the healers,” Kup explained.

The large mech nodded. “Welcome. I'm this tribe’s leader, Ultra Magnus. Please have a seat and introduce yourselves.”

Hound and Mirage each sat down, but Kup remained standing, leaning himself against the back wall.

“Thank you for seeing us.” Hound offered a friendly smile.

Mirage frowned, though. This mech better help them after their long trip ending with Hound being mauled.

“Of course. So tell me why you require the healer’s assistance,” Ultra Magnus said, folding his large hands together on his desk.

“Our leader, a Prime, is gravely injured. Our healers tell us we need more of this—” Hound removed the sample of nanite in a glass tube from his hip armor. “They say it's the only way to save his life. The healers here once saved his life long ago and we hope they can help once again.”

“He is too ill to move, I take it?” Ultra Magnus asked.

“Yes. To be perfectly honest, this is our last hope. We don't want to lose our Prime,” Hound replied.

Ultra Magnus looked pensive for an agonizingly long moment, gaze pinned on the vial in Hound’s hand.

“What's there to consider? Either you want to help save a life or you're sparkless and willing to let a Prime die. Not like we want to take your precious healers away. We just need them to give us some programmable nanites,” Mirage piped up.

Hound stared at Mirage in disbelief. “He's the leader, you shouldn't talk like that—”

“It's fine.” Ultra Magnus smiled a little, seemingly amused. “You’re right. I was considering whether or not you were telling the truth about this mech being a Prime. We've had many come here seeking the healers’ assistance who felt the need to exaggerate their plight or outright lied to gain access medical supplies.”

“We aren't liars. He's been in stasis for Primus knows how long. Its no way for a Prime to exist, not able to die and not able live,” Mirage replied.

Ultra Magnus nodded. “I'll grant you access to the healers here.”

“Thank you so much,” Hound replied. “He means so much to our group.”

Standing up, Ultra Magnus revealed just how incredibly tall he was. “Follow me. We’ll go see them now.”

Mirage and Hound also stood, now eye-level with his broad chest, which was covered by his lovely aqua blue robe. They followed the large leader back out of the building with Kup at their backs, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

It was interesting to see these mechs were wearing thinner, long robes like the one the minibots made for Mirage. He vaguely wondered if they'd crossed paths in the past. He was also curious about the fact these mechs spoke the same language as Hound’s group.

They entered another building set behind a large natural crystal. Mirage’s jaw dropped at the technologically advanced interior. The walls were lined with equipment that looked even more updated than the main medical center in Iacon. It was also pristine and well lit inside, with no signs of decay anywhere.

A funny-looking mech emerged from a back room. His face was obscured with a lower face mask and he had large helm fins jutting out on either side.

“Hey there!”

“Wheeljack, these mechs have come in search of nanites to heal their leader, a Prime,” Ultra Magnus explained.

“Oh yeah? A real Prime? What relic did he find?” Wheeljack asked.

“The matrix,” Hound replied. “It found him, though.”

Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack both looked impressed by his reply.

“Hey, Percy! We’ve got company!” Wheeljack shouted.

“What sort of company?” A red mech asked, emerging from the same back room, using a cloth to wipe his hands clean.

“This is Perceptor,” Ultra Magnus said, smiling.

“Do you have a sample of the nanite?” Wheeljack asked.

Hound held up the glass tube. “Our medics gave me this to give you.”

Wheeljack took the offered vial. “Programmable nanites might not work for a Prime.”

“Ratchet said that, too,” Mirage absently commented, distracted by their state of the art medbay.

“Is that your tribe healer?” Wheeljack asked, lifting up the vial to closely scrutinize the contents.

“It's a complicated story. In essence he and his fellow healer have joined our group,” Hound replied.

“Nanites are most effective when they come from a mech with a similar spark signature. A familial match is ideal. Are one of you a relative?” Perceptor asked.

“No. Our Prime was left for dead a long time ago. He had been severely injured. I was a sparkling when it happened so my memories only cover part of the story. But at the time we carried him to where you used to have a cave in the southern mountains. Healers tended to him and he pulled through, but he awoke without any memory of his life before. So he joined us,” Hound explained.

“What is his name?” Ultra Magnus asked, optics bright.

“Optimus. Optimus _Prime_ now,” Hound replied.

Ultra Magnus suddenly looked stricken. “Describe his appearance,” he commanded.

“Um, large?” Hound was confused by the large mech’s reaction to Optimus’ name.

“Blue head, red upper body, blue legs. He's also got finials a bit like yours but thinner and pointed,” Mirage filled in.

Kup moved fast for an older mech, arm propping Ultra Magnus up from behind. “It's okay, I got you.”

“You know him?” Hound asked.

“Yes.” Ultra Magnus touched his chest. “We thought he was dead.”

Perceptor looked thrilled by news despite Ultra Magnus’ response. “Is he from _this_  tribe? If so tell us his family and we’ll test to find a match.”

“He has only distant relatives left. The family of Solomus have some surviving cousins and their offspring.” Ultra Magnus wavered on his feet.

Wheeljack grabbed a chair, moving it behind him. “Sit before you fall over.”

Lowering himself to the chair, Ultra Magnus looked shaken to his very core.

Mirage wondered why he had such a strong reaction to the news. Shouldn't he be happy to hear Optimus wasn't dead? He acted as if Optimus had been— “Are you his bonded?”

Kup shot Mirage a death glare. “One more word and I'll reformat you myself.”

Hound moved in front of Mirage. “Over my dead body.”

“Oh my, you're hurt,” Perceptor observed, looking at Hound’s arm. “Come with me. I'll get your arm cleaned up and mended.”

Hound didn't move, though, ignoring Perceptor. “Mirage speaks without thinking sometimes. He meant nothing by it.”

“In answer to your question, we never bonded.” Sadness overtook Ultra Magnus’ face, making him look tired and much older than moments before. “But yes, we intended to.”  
  
Wheeljack’s headfins flickered blue. “How about we give Ultra Magnus a moment? Go along with Percy, okay?”

Reluctantly, Hound took hold of Mirage’s hand and they followed the red mech to the other room.

Perceptor led Hound to an open berth. “Have a seat.”

Hound sat down then huffed. “Will you still help us?”

“Of course we will.” Perceptor dipped a cloth in a blue-tinted liquid then began to clean up Hound’s arm.

Mirage stared at his hand linked with Hound’s, his spark pulsing happily in response. He gently squeezed it, and Hound squeezed back, subtly smiling.

“I'm quite surprised by Ultra Magnus’ reaction, but if all the stories I've heard are true, then I suppose it makes sense. Optimus was supposed to become this tribe’s next leader. His family had been in charge for generations when he disappeared,” Perceptor babbled as he finished cleaning the wound. Leaning in close, he inspected the claw marks. “Glit got you, hm? Well, it's not too deep. I can wrap it if you like.”

Pulling his arm away, Hound was about to reject the offer.

Mirage quickly spoke up. “Yes, please wrap it if it'll speed his recovery.”

“I'll apply a healing gel I developed. By tomorrow it'll barely look scuffed,” Perceptor replied.

Hound silently relented, leaving his arm in the healer’s grasp. He and Mirage watched as Perceptor applied a gooey greenish gel from a tube to each claw mark.

“Feels tingly.” Hound frowned. “Is that normal?”

Perceptor nodded as he unfolded a thin fabric strip. “The gel has a numbing property that interrupts your sensory net, which creates feedback and a tingling sensation. It's perfectly normal. Means it's working.” He then very carefully wrapped the strip around Hound’s forearm several times, bandaging it.

Wheeljack appeared in the doorway. “So, we’re gonna check spark energy signatures tomorrow for you. Turns out there’s only four Solomus members left.”

“Is your leader angry with us?” Hound asked, looking worried.

Wheeljack rubbed the back of his helm. “Nah. Think you caught him off guard is all. Kup took him outta here. But before they went he said to let you guys stay in a guest house we have. I'll take you over when you're ready.”

“We appreciate the hospitality,” Mirage replied. “Especially after I put my foot in my mouth.”

“Don't worry too much about it. Only Kup knew. I was about to ask the same thing as you, to be honest. You just beat me to it,” Wheeljack assured Mirage.

“All set,” Perceptor said, tying off the end and tucking it in under a fold.

Wheeljack’s optics curved, indicating he was smiling beneath his mask. “I'll walk you two to the guesthouse. Get you settled in.”

“Thank you,” Hound and Mirage both said at once.

…

Finally allowed to be together, First Aid had stayed the night in Trailbreaker's quarters. He'd curled up with him in his berth after being up late working on the puzzle. Lighting his optics, he smiled at seeing dark plating and feeling the warmth trading between their frames. He smooshed his face into Trailbreaker’s chest.

The large arm draped around First Aid tightened. Trailbreaker mumbled something then sighed. The boom of his voice had caused his chest reverberate, making the mumbled words impossible to understand.

First Aid grinned against the warm plating. He felt so happy, he was sure his spark might burst. Rejected from creation by everyone but Ratchet, finding acceptance in this mech’s arms meant the world to him.

“Should get up,” Trailbreaker said more clearly. He kissed the top of First Aid’s head. “I have work to do in my metal shop.”

“I was going to start evaluating general health needs today.” First Aid hugged himself tightly to Trailbreaker. “But this is so much nicer.”

Trailbreaker chucked. “Agreed, but life here has responsibilities.”

Wiggling up in Trailbreaker's hold, First Aid looked him in the optics that were just barely outlined behind his visor. “This is the best life I could ever have imagined.”

Trailbreaker grinned, then captured First Aid’s lips in a kiss.

Kissing was still new for First Aid, but he was getting better at it. Trailbreaker deepened the kiss, and their glossae teasingly touched between linked mouths. Heat rippled over First Aid’s plating, and he unconsciously arched his body against his larger companion. He felt a stir in his array that was also new to him. A prickling heat, pressure from his unused spike and the automated system that slicked his never used valve.

Trailbreaker ran his hand down the length of First Aid’s side, then slid it to cup his aft under his armor, pulling him so their hips were pressed flush, with two layers of external armor between them.

The long kiss broke, leaving First Aid feeling hazy and turned on. He was fascinated by how his body reacted to this mech.

Trailbreaker looked into First Aid’s face, his lust-filled expression switching to a vaguely worried look. He cleared his vocalizer of static and removed his hand from First Aid’s aft, resting it on his hip over the armor. “Should get going.”

“Um, now?” First Aid asked. He felt confused. He thought they were going to interface.

“Yeah. My work won't complete itself.” Trailbreaker then extricated himself from First Aid, sitting up. “Would you like to share some energon before we part for the day?”

First Aid pushed himself to sit up. “Okay.” What just happened? One second they were close and becoming intimate, the next Trailbreaker was across the berth ready to leave. Maybe First Aid had done something wrong? He hadn't returned the touches, perhaps he'd offended Trailbreaker in some way? Next time he'd have to try harder…

…

Ratchet worked on tending to Optimus’ body. Drift sat in a ball on a nearby berth watching him intently.

“Why do you clean him?” Drift asked.

“It's helping his body heal a little bit.” Ratchet had spent the night with both patients, recharging on an empty medberth.

The night before Drift had sobbed until he finally fell into a deep, much needed recharge. Ratchet didn't want him waking up alone down here, so he’d stayed.

“He's not like the others here,” Drift said, slipping off his berth. He wandered closer, peering into Optimus’ open chest where the matrix lay. “I've never seen a real Prime.”

Ratchet glanced at Drift, momentarily distracted by his unusual beauty. “You're nothing like the mechs here, either.”

Drift locked gazed with Ratchet. “I'm similar in size and strength to this tribe. This Prime is huge and I bet he's extremely powerful.”

“You're much prettier than the mechs of this tribe,” Ratchet replied with a small smile. “Never seen piercing hoops like yours before.”

Lowering his head, Drift dimmed his optics. “The piercings are markers for every hundred vorns I spent in the Temple of Primus.”

Ratchet’s curiosity was piqued. “Were you raised in the Temple?”

Drift shook his head, hoops jangling. “I'm unwanted offspring of a pleasure mech in Tarn. I never even knew my creators. I was taken in by the central building administration and raised to adulthood there.”

“Tarn? That city state still exists?” Ratchet was shocked. In Iacon and Kaon they believed Tarn was swallowed by the planet like Praxus.

“Primus reclaimed all but the central building. Only those blessed to survive and their offspring are allowed to live in the building.” Drift looked at Optimus for a moment. “But there is no Prime there.”

Ratchet was intrigued. “So, how did you end up at the Temple?”

“Gasket and I were taken there by our savior.” Drift fingered the edge of the berth. “I'd hoped to one day be chosen, but I was undesirable, I guess.” He shyly smiled at Ratchet. “But you chose me. I can finally fulfill my duty as a devotee to Primus.”

At that, Ratchet froze in the middle of cleaning between plates on Optimus’s arm. “Your _duty_? Is this about that whole oath thing?”

Drift quickly rounded the berth to stand at Ratchet’s side. He bowed his head. “Of course. I'm yours to do with as you please. I hope one day to bring you an heir, but only after I've proven my ability to please you.”

Ratchet turned to face Drift. “Please me? _Heir_?? Look kid, I don't belong to your Temple and I don't need you pledge that oath thing to me. Just, you know, be glad you're safe now.”

Looking mortified, Drift peered up at Ratchet. “Are you rejecting me?”

“No, no. It's just, you don't have to do all that Temple stuff now. You're free,” Ratchet tried to explain.

Tears formed at the edges of Drift’s optics. “Please don't reject my oath,” he said, voice wavering. “You are the first mech to chose me ever. No one ever wanted me before. I'll prove myself! I can show you now how obedient and talented I am.” He dropped down to his knees in front of Ratchet, untied his tunic to expose his body, then reached up under Ratchet’s hip armor, letting his fingers dance teasingly around the hidden array cover.

Ratchet instinctively pushed the groping hands away. “You don't have to prove anything!”

“If you prefer, I can perform on myself? So you can see I'm worthy?” Drift offered as he began to touch his own exposed plating.

“No! Stop! This isn't necessary or the proper place!” Ratchet grabbed Drift by the wrists to stop him. Primus, what had he gotten himself into with this mech?

Drift tipped his head, and ducked under the hip armor, glossa flicking out and licking up Ratchet’s closed array cover.

“What in the name of Primus is going on!”

Mid-struggle with Drift’s head still under his armor, Ratchet looked up to see Prowl and Ironhide standing a few steps inside the old medbay. Prowl looked mortified, while Ironhide shook his head.

“Drift! Now is not the time. Stop!” Ratchet reprimanded in Drift’s language.

Drift sat back on his heels, then peered over his shoulder at the visitors.

“Tie up your tunic,” Ratchet said, pulling it back up over his shoulders.

Drift obeyed, covering himself.

“A misunderstanding is all it is,” Ratchet said in the wildland dialect to Prowl and Ironhide.

“Fraggin’ Temple mechs,” Ironhide said, almost looking amused. “He said he's yours or something, right?”

Face heating, Ratchet nodded while gently helping Drift to stand up.

“Temple? What Temple?” Prowl asked.

“You're too young to remember.” Ironhide sighed. “When we were still nomads, we ventured real far south. Came across these mechs living in an old Temple. They let us camp nearby, and we traded goods. When we were heading out after a week or so, the Temple mechs gifted our old leader a disciple, though because of the language barrier I don't think he knew that was the deal.” Ironhide looked at Drift for a moment. “He was very pretty, just like this one. First night we hear our leader yelling. He roused the whole camp. Our leader and his bondmate woke up to the Temple mech uncovered and trying to seduce our leader. He was promptly ejected from the tent, and if I remember right, some elders returned the disciple back to the Temple the next day.”

Prowl and Ratchet both frowned in response to the story.

“I will not have this intruder being physical with you in this sacred cavern, in front of our Prime,” Prowl scolded.

“He's mad at me?” Drift asked in his language.

“You were trying to ‘prove’ yourself in front of their Prime,” Ratchet responded. “They view him as sacred.”

“I performed in front of our Temple leader all the time,” Drift replied.

Ratchet rubbed his face, exasperated. “They don't do that here. You gotta be respectful of them, okay?”

Drift looked unsure but nodded. “Whatever you ask of me, I'll do.”

Glancing back at Prowl, Ratchet switched back to their dialect. “He won't do it again.”

Prowl huffed, sensor panels flicking. “He better not. I will boot him from this encampment if he doesn't behave appropriately.”

“I _promise_  he won't do that again,” Ratchet replied.

For the love of Primus, what a mess he'd gotten himself into. Ratchet rubbed the back of his helm and sighed.

…

“He was trying to interface right in the middle of the the room?” First Aid asked, optics bright behind his visor. “He didn't care the door was open? Or that their Prime was right there?”

“Didn't give a scrap,” Ratchet replied.

They both looked at Drift sho was sitting on a corner berth, watching them.

“I don't know what to do,” Ratchet replied. “If I reject him, he'll be upset. But I don't want some slave mech.”

“Differing cultures,” First Aid murmured, looking at Drift. “Well, I think the best thing to do is find a way to honor his culture but make it clear ours is different.”

“I was taken by surprise. I definitely didn't handle it well.” Ratchet frowned for a moment. “Enough about the mess I'm in. How was your first night with your _friend_?”

First Aid’s face heated. “It was fine. Nothing happened. Though, well, nevermind.”

Ratchet canted his head slightly. “You having a ‘cultural difference’, too?”

“I don't know. I think my lack of experience might be an issue.” First Aid shrugged.

“Lack of experience shouldn't matter. We’re adaptable. We learn from one another. If he's expecting something from you without asking or explaining then you have a problem that needs to be addressed as soon as possible,” Ratchet replied.

First Aid shyly smiled. Ratchet’s creator tone always made him feel cared for, but he really wanted to figure this out for himself. “I'll find out what it is. Correct myself accordingly.”

Ratchet frowned more.

“Are you already a creator?” Drift asked in his language.

Ratchet looked at him. “Sorta. I adopted three mechs. This is one.”

Drift nodded slowly, gaze shifting to First Aid. “I don't understand your words to him, but I can tell you're a very good creator. He loves you very much.”

First Aid glanced between them. “What did he say?”

Ratchet rubbed the back of head. “He's complimenting my parenting. But earlier he also said he wants to give me an heir. So you know, cultural differences and all, who knows.”

“You _are_  a great adoptive creator.” First Aid smiled, then looked at Drift. “Maybe we should install the translation software for him. That way we can all speak wildland dialect.”

“I need to examine his processor and assess his overall state for any damages from energon starvation. But to be honest, I don't know if he'll do something inappropriate again or not,” Ratchet replied.

“Then how about I assess him, while you upload the translation program? He won't do anything like that with me here,” First Aid replied.

Ratchet shook his head. “Don't be so sure about that… but it's worth a shot.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those wondering about Magnus being sparked... you'll find out next chapter.


End file.
